Dante's Castle
by Lee7
Summary: The revision, she is coming! That's right, errors will be fixed, calls will be made, Dante will be pissed! Extremely late updates are due to crappy college teachers and classes. And yes, this is a cheap way to buy time until inspiration strikes again.
1. The Beginning

1.The Beginning

Dante rolled over in his sleep and snorted into his pillow.  Suddenly, he sat up, looked blearily around for a moment, then sighed and fell back into the covers, fast asleep.

Two hours later 

Dante's contented snores were interrupted by a brief cough.  Then a lot of coughs.  Finally, he woke up hacking.  "Damn. Must be time to get up."

Dante waved the offending piece of house insulation that had somehow gotten into his room away and proceeded to clamber out of bed and get dressed.  He then decided that it was time for breakfast, which would probably consist of pizza, coke, and a bowl of popcorn.  Such a healthy eater.

As Dante stumbled down the hall, he passed Trish, and unwisely screamed when he saw her face, which due to the early hours had not been tended to yet.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! Shit woman! You scared the crap out of me!"  This less-than-tactful remark earned him a hearty smack across the face.  Dante refrained from further comment, and continued on to the kitchen. Once there, he found Link.  Now, you must understand, Dante was not quite awake, or he wouldn't have made that remark to Trish, and he would have noticed that Link was an intruder in his Castle.

"Salutations, fellow hero. You look like you just came out the wrong end of a bar fight," said Link.

Dante's response was automatic.  "If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy."

"Good man.  Coffee?"

"Thanks.  This'll help me wake up," Dante said, accepting the elixir of life.  "Well, see you later."  Dante exited the kitchen, sipping at his mug of coffee.  He eventually remembered the way to a large sitting room, and made his way to the largest, most comfortable seat around.  His chair.  The place where he could sit and be sublimely happy with a magazine and a drink.  But not this morning, as Squall was occupying his seat reading a book entitled, Of Men and Women.  "Hey dude, out," Dante ordered, pointing to the floor.

Squall calmly marked his place, closed his book, and gave Dante the once over.  Coming to a conclusion, he inquired politely, "Who's going to make me?"

"Mr. Fist-In-Yer-Face if you don't move.  I'm warning you, I'm not the best morning person."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?!"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah?!?"

"Yeah, now beat it, punk!"

"I'll flip you for it."

"…Fine, if that's what it takes to make you move."  Dante fished around in his pocket for his double-headed coin, and, upon finding it, held out his hand to flip it.  "I've got heads."  As he moved to flip the coin, Squall grabbed his hand and flipped him over the Lay-Z-Boy.  Dante's coffee splashed all over the front of his shirt, burning him, and his mug shattered in the fall.  Understandably, this upset Dante. "The hell you think you're doing, man?!?  Do you have any idea how much this mug cost me?  Huh?  Do you?  Well, for your information, it cost me $25.99, butthead!  What've you got to say to that?"

"I'd say you got ripped, buddy," Squall replied pleasantly.

"That's IT!" Dante yelled as he grabbed Squall's foot and slung him out of the recliner into a fragile vase that still had the price tag on it.  It read $350.00 (apparently, someone else got ripped off as well).  Dante, believing the matter to be settled, sighed as he leaned all the way back in the recliner with his eyes closed, fully prepared to drop off for his morning nap.  When he heard rapid footsteps, however, his eyes snapped open, only to see a marble vase stand coming at his head.

The impact and ensuing scream could be heard clearly in the kitchen, causing Link to jump, which made him drop both his newspaper and his doughnut on the floor.  A rat – er, Blade – instantly grabbed the defenseless pastry and skittered up the wall into the rafters.  Frowning, Link rose from the breakfast table and followed the source of the yells, eventually finding Dante with Squall in a headlock and Squall beating on Dante's head with a brick torn from the wall.

"Hmm… Hey Cloud, what's happening here?" Link asked of the pointy-haired one, who was currently hiding behind a couch.

"Well, it seems that when Squall chose a reading spot, he chose Dante's favorite chair, and when Dante came to claim his seat, Squall flipped him for it – literally.  Dante retaliated by throwing Squall into an expensive vase, which, I must say, shattered quite well, and-"

            "Wait a minute, wait a minute.  Who's Dante?"

"The guy in the red trenchcoat, and the proprietor of this Castle, apparently.  Anyway, after Dante threw Squall, he lay down and closed his eyes.  His nap was not to be, however, as Squall never lets anything end in a bad way for him.  The noise that probably drew you in here was that of a marble vase stand colliding with Dante's head. Hence the fight."

"Thank you, Cloud," Link said. Seeing that the fight was destroying the room, he decided to put a stop to it.  However, he was stumped as to exactly how he was going to go about it. First, he tried throwing random objects into the fight, such as books, small tables, and even a TV.  They just got thrown back.  Then he had a stroke of genius and started shooting Ice Arrows at the fighters in an effort to freeze them into blocks of (surprise!) ice.  It took a while, but several minutes and half a quiver later, Squall, Dante, and the overturned armchair were frozen in one big ice cube. "There!" Link crowed. 

"Finally," Cloud said with exaggerated relief as he came out from behind the couch, "I was beginning to doubt your accuracy, Link."

While the two heroes debated on what to do with their new ice sculpture ("We could go to Alaska and enter it in an ice-sculpting contest for cash!"), Dante's half-asleep brain woke up fully, jump-started by the sub-zero temperatures.  Only then did he realize that there were intruders in his Castle.  With a mighty effort, he broke free from the ice, inadvertently freeing Squall as well.  "What in the flying, blue-blazing hell are you people doing in MY Castle?!?" he roared, "This is my place, not yours!  Get out!  Get out now!"

"Screw that, idiot. I, for one, am here to stay," Cid stated as he passed through the room on his way to the bathroom.

"Yeah. Show me yo' deed to da island, and I'll consider buyin' some of it off ya ta live in," Barret said, "Until den, we all got jus' as much right ta live here as you do."

"But… but… I enslaved the previous owner to obtain this island!  You can't just waltz in here and claim a part for yourself!"

"Technically, Dante old chap, we can," Red XIII said smoothly, "Like our good friend Barret just said, if you don't have a deed, you don't have any right to make us leave, and, in the very likely event that we decide to live here, you can't make us pay rent either."

"Well, damn.  That just sucks.  What if my opinion was that you are all stupid asshole squatters and that I don't give a shit about any non-existent deeds?" Dante asked.

"Then we would all just have to find a way to 'convince' you otherwise," Tidus answered.

"The hell!  Just how many of you are there?  This is turning into a freakin' zoo here!" Dante yelled.

"_OOOOOOO_gaboogalooga!! Mecha le _HEEEEEEEE_ liaga, eekyum," Zidane stated.

"Okay, now it _is_ a freakin' zoo."

"Oh, don't mind him," Squall said coolly, "He has his own little language.  Unless he's speaking in English or looking suspicious, don't give him a second thought.  You might want to check your pockets, by the way.  He's a crafty little bastard."

Dante checked his pockets, holsters, and secret sewn-in wallets.  He found that one of his pistols was missing, and lost no time in grabbing Zidane and shaking him roughly.  "Give it up, you little monkey-tailed rat!"  Zidane stubbornly refused to hand it over, and Dante took him by the ankles and smacked him against the wall.  Zidane decided that it was not in his best interests to keep the gun any longer, and handed it over with bad grace and a curse in Zidanese.

"God, you people are just so… ah, hell with it.  Stay if it suits you.  I was getting bored anyway, living here all by myself with nobody intelligent to talk to."  Trish stalked in and bashed Dante's head against the wall three times, much to Squall's delight.  "OKAY _OKAY_!!  Jeez, I meant to say that I've had no intelligent _guys_ to talk to.  Satisfied?"  Dante amended, rubbing his head.

"For the moment.  Invariably, you will screw up later and piss me off to no end.  Then I will have to correct you once more," Trish replied.

"Sure, whatever… anyway, it's just you guys right? No other people coming to breathe my air are there?" Dante asked.

"Well actually," Fox started, "there _is_ the small matter of our girlfriends needing a place to live as well…"

"Oh-ho-ho no. No girls," Dante said decisively, "Counting all of you, I'd say that there's at least six or seven you're talking about, probably more.  There's just no way I'm going to let so many women into my sanctum.  Nuh-uh.  No way in hell."  Just then, Trish walked in leading the girls to their bedrooms. 

"I'm sure you'll just love it here.  I haven't had anyone _intelligent_ to talk to in ages.  There's a kitchen, a den, a bathroom, and here we have…" 

"Um, can I ask something?" Rinoa asked.

"Why, certainly, dear."

"Why are you saying 'a bathroom' instead of 'the bathroom'?"

"Well, this Castle is so big, there are tons of rooms.  It's only logical that there would be more than one kitchen, bathroom, den, and so on."

"Oh, okay.  Please, continue your tour."

"All right, over here we have…" Trish's voice trailed off in the distance.  Dante stared after them.

"Will someone hand me a noose?  Please?  I just don't think I can take anymore of this..." Dante dithered weakly.

"Hey man, you can't give up!" exclaimed Cid, who was back from his little bathroom adventure, "Committing suicide now is like admitting that the girls won!  Are you going to give up without a fight?  And you call yourself a man."

"Yeah… yeah!  You're right!  I can't just give up and die!  All right, the first action I'm going to take against the spreading of girly influence is to divide the Castle roughly into two halves.  On one side the boys.  On the other, the girls.  Of course, some areas will be neutral, like bathrooms, the kitchen, and… and…" Dante started to plan.

"Don't worry Dante, we'll help too! Can't have the women getting the upper hand, you know," Link said.

"Just what I wanted to hear! With a team like ours, how can we lose? Okay, first, Zidane you go and…"


	2. After the Occupation

2.After the Occupation

In the Castle, all was quiet, as fitting for a lovely dawn. But not for long.

The door to Dante's bedroom banged open, and the devil hunter himself emerged from within.  Yawning, he made his way down the hall toward the kitchen.  At a crossroads in the hall, he heard the sound of a far-off motor revving.  Thinking nothing of it, he started across the intersection.  The motor quickly became louder, so quickly in fact that Dante was only halfway across the hall when Zidane's go-kart rounded the corner.  Zidane either honestly didn't see Dante, or he didn't care, as he just screeched on down the hall, ruining the rug and knocking the various tables and paintings down in passing.  It was only Dante's quick reflexes, possessed at birth and sharpened over the years, that saved him from being run down where he stood.

"Damn!  So now I have to look both ways before I cross my own hall?"  Grumbling to himself darkly, Dante made his way – carefully – to the kitchen.

When he arrived, he found Fox and Cloud sitting at the breakfast table, drinking coffee and eating doughnuts.  Zidane was standing in the refrigerator door, looking over its contents hungrily.  Squall was reading the Daily Post, and Link and Barret were playing checkers at another table.  Red XIII was nowhere in sight.

Scratch that last bit, Red was on top of the refrigerator, watching Zidane juggle various fruits.  Dante decided that Zidane had had more than enough time at the refrigerator and shoved him out of the way.  Zidane hit back, and a brief scuffle ensued, ending with Dante flinging Zidane out the kitchen door with a banana in his hands.  Dante got some milk and cold pizza out and shut the door, making his way to the breakfast table.  He made acknowledging noises at the other guys and sat down.  Cid then came in and grabbed a coke from the fridge before exiting in a hurry.

"What's his rush?" Dante asked.

"Well, he's been working on the Castle machines in an effort to make them work more efficiently.  So far he's fixed up the water lines, microwaves, ovens, and TV's.  There's no telling what he's working on now," Link answered.

"Whoa.  When I asked him to fix some stuff up because he looked like a halfway decent mechanic, I never expected him to actually do it.  Just by looking at him, it's hard to believe that he can be of any use at all."

"Huh, you don't know him well enough yet," Cloud snorted.

The guys finished their breakfasts and vacated the kitchen before the girls came in and ran them off.

"So… what we gonna do now?" Barret asked.

"Well, we could always go to my garage and see what we can do there," suggested Dante.  Since no one else had any better ideas, off to the garage it was. 

In the darkness of the garage, baby Phantom spiders and rats – eh, Blades – abounded.  When the door slammed open, however, they all scattered into the woodwork.  The lights flickered on, revealing two things of importance: Dante's red motorcycle and Dante's unfinished biplane.  Of not-so-great importance were the various mechanical parts scattered all over the floor.

"Welcome to my garage," Dante proclaimed proudly.

"Hey, Dante, man, where did all these parts come from?" Squall asked.

"Oh, hear and there, you know."

"Ah."

"Yep, I've been working on this baby for half a year now," Dante said, patting the incomplete hull of the biplane, "and I've loved every minute of it.  When it's finished, it'll be the my greatest accomplishment yet."

"I'll bet," Link said, nonplussed, "Hey would it be okay if the rest of us used all these spare parts lying around to build our own stuff?"  But Dante was too busy stroking the biplane to hear. "Dante? Dante. DANTE!"

"Huh?  What?  Oh, sure, whatever floats your boat."

"My gratitude is boundless."  But Dante was too busy working on his biplane to appreciate the sarcasm in Link's voice.

"OH MY GOD!  OH MY GOD!!  OH!  MY!!  GOD!!!"  Cid had discovered the garage.  "Out of the way, fools!  I must get in!  Move, I say!  Okay Barret, how about this?  I now control everything mechanical in the Castle, and if you don't move you won't shower properly for a week!"

Barret's showers were important to him.  He moved.  Cid got in.

"Yes!  Oh baby, YES!  My most cherished dream come true!  A workshop all to myself!"  Cid was going into hysterics.

Cloud took it upon himself to burst Cid's bubble.  "Well, actually, Cid, this is a shared workshop.  It's not just yours.  The rest of us guys are going to be working here, too."

Cid took it rather well.  He started to cry.  "NO!  NOOOOOO!  Why, God, why?  WHY?"  Cid's wracking sobs were beginning to impede his weak old man breathing.

This alarmed Barret. "Yo, Cid, man, you still get a part, jus' not all of it…"

After a few more snivels, Cid cleared his throat.  "Ahem.  Excuse me.  Well I suppose a part's better than none… as long as I a spot near the circuit box."

The comforting role did not suit Barret well.  But he had brought it on himself, and no one was about to help him out.  "Fine, fine, you jus' go and set up shop right over there under the circuit box, where you can stare at it as you go to sleep, okay?"

But Cid was not listening.  He was already on his way to his part of the garage.  Barret sighed with relief, then proceeded to acquire some parts from the other guys, whether they wanted to share or not.

Later, elsewhere in the Castle… 

Garnet was luxuriating in the comfort of a good book, when she suddenly realized something.  "Hey girls, have you noticed that it's been unusually quiet today?"

"Why, now that you mention it, it sure has.  I wonder why?" Malon answered.

Trish snorted.  "I'll tell you why.  It's because those dumbass boys haven't shown their faces yet."

"But they should've at least started one fight by now…" Aeris said, mildly worried.  Notice that she did not deny that the guys were dumbasses.

The gist of the conversation finally dawned on Rinoa.  "Squall is missing?" she gasped, "Oh NO! Now who will protect me from the monsters?  Or help me bake cookies?  Or come to my tea parties?  Oh Squall, where are you?  SQUAAAAAAAALLLLL!!!!"

_In the garage…_

A high, piercing scream came to Squall's ears over the whirring of buzz saws, the pounding of hammers, the steady thrum of radio music, and the general sounds of industry at its finest.  He perked up.  "Hey guys, did you hear something?"  He was answered by a chorus of "no's", "what's", and a "shutdahellupstoopid" from Barret.  Miffed, Squall went back to work.

Back with the girls, who now have ringing headaches… 

"Ow… shit Rinoa, you don't have to screech like that just because Squall isn't right in front of you…" Trish had been the one closest to Rinoa when she went off.  Now she was temporarily deaf in her right ear.

Fox poked his head in the door. "Hey girls, I heard a scream, but it seems you are all a-okay.  Have you seen the other-" he was cut off as Rinoa tackled him to the floor.

"You!  Tell me where Squall is!  Now!  Tellmetellmetellmetellmetellmetellmetellme…"

Fox, surprised and unable to hear himself think over the din, attempted to get an answer out, but Rinoa repeatedly cut him off.  Finally he yelled, "Get the hell off me right now before I eat you all up!"  Rinoa, frightened to high heaven, did so in as great a hurry as she could manage.

"Ahem.  Now then, have any of you seen any of the other guys?  Uh, girls?"  All the girls were looking at him funny.  "What? Oh… Rinoa, I'm not really going to eat you all up, I just needed you to get off me."

"So you don't know where Squall is?" she asked tentatively.

"While we were on our way to the garage I stopped to look down another hallway for five seconds, and next thing I know I'm all alone in this rat maze of a Castle."

"Oh, the garage," said Trish with a disgusted tone in her voice, "Follow me, I know where it is."

Meanwhile, in the garage… 

There really is nothing like working with power tools to make you forget about the outside world.  Link found this out while working on a new project.  So when the door opened, Link was rather surprised, as he had forgotten there was a door.  He watched as Fox came in, looking pissed for some reason, and proceeded to yell at Dante for leaving him behind.  Dante did not notice Fox until Fox came at him with a steel pipe.

Then all of a sudden, the radio stopped playing heavy metal rock music and began to play a sappy reunion number as Rinoa stepped in, saw Squall, and dashed through the dangerous maze of power tools and scrap metal to tackle him to the ground.  Luckily, Squall saw her coming and managed to turn off his blowtorch before she reached him.

"Squall!  Oh Squall, it was horrible!  When you went missing, and I didn't know where you were, and oh it was just awful…!"  And she went on in this train of speech until Squall finally managed to calm her down, give her a cookie, and send her to her room to take a nap.  Yes, yes, he would be right here when she woke up, and if he wasn't, he would be coming to get her.  Everything would be fine.  Now run along and let the men get on with their work.

The guys managed to hold their laughter in all the way until the door closed.

"BWAHAHAHAHA!!  Oh man, that was rich!  'Go on up to your room Rinoa.'  Hahahaha!"  Dante never was one for discretion.

"Oh, oh, and, 'Everything will be fine, sweetums.'  I think I'm gonna pass out!"  Barret wasn't either.

"I wouldn't recommend it, as there's only a pair of tongs between you and that hot iron."  Squall was not amused.

"O… okay guys," Fox wheezed, "I think we men aught to g… get on with our work!"

"WAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"I'll remember this, you immature cretins."

"Squall, the mighty protector of the world, turns out to be nothing more than a babysitter!"  Link jeered.

At this point, the guys were reduced to pained gasping in place of laughing.

"Hey fools, look at this!"  When Squall had the men's attention, he held up both fists and performed a Double Bird Flip.  "Can you read sign language, ladies?"

            And so, the boys spent the rest of their day working on their projects and snickering at Squall, who wrote down the names, dates, and times of the offenders for future reference.


	3. The Dividing

3.The Dividing

Admittedly, the guys had great fun in the garage, and the girls had a restful day without them around, but Link and Squall both felt that there was just no excuse for putting off business two days in a row.  And so a conference consisting of every man and woman in the Castle was called to determine the boundary lines that would mark off where a person could be and where he or she should not be.

"I now call this council to order," Auron intoned.

"Why you, huh?  Why do you get to call the council to order?  Why not me?" Dante demanded.

"Because I am perfectly capable of handing you your head if you dispute me," Auron replied mildly.

"Oh yeah?"

Auron remained silent, wishing for all he was worth that they had picked anyone else to mediate this ridiculous council.

"Uh, Auron?  You were supposed to say, 'Yeah!'"

"I refuse to sink to your level of childishness," Auron sighed, "Now, to business."

"Yes, to business," Trish agreed, "I, as chosen spokesperson of the Femme Fatale interest in this affair, hereby formally request that you men hand the entire Castle over to us women with no more of this foolish nonsense of you having all the same equal rights as we do.  Now, you will be fairly treated, but will have no say in what goes on around here.  Believe me, it's for the best for everyone concerned."

Auron's left eye twitched and his mouth quirked slightly, though none of that was visible to the others through his sunglasses and collar.  Nothing, however, could disguise the sarcastic tone in his voice.  "Ahem… yes, well, I shall now ask the men to recess for five minutes and think this generous offer over."

All the men huddled into a tightly packed group on the opposite side of the room as the women.  Much snickering and poorly concealed laughter floated to Trish's ears.  She gathered that this was not a good sign.

After two minutes, Link stood forward.  "Okay, okay, just a minute…" He turned back to the guys, snickering, and said, "Shut up guys, I'm trying to talk here."  He faced the girls again, and made known the boys' opinion of Trish's statement, "We, the Victory March, consisting of every man in the Castle, have decided you Femme Fatales can shove this 'generous offer' up your collective asses.  It should be a well-known fact to all you girls, by the way, that, ahem, All Your Base Are Belong To Us!  Thank you.  You have the floor, Trish."  Link sat back down among much applause from the VM and stony silence from the girls.  For the men, it would be a cold bed/couch tonight.

"Somehow, I knew that this meeting would boil down to an insulting embarrassment for both sides," Trish sighed, "You being the stubborn, unreasonable, pig-headed, stupid-assed men – cough-children-cough – that you are."

"Why you stuck up…" Cid began.

But alas, the battle of insults was not to be today.  Maybe some other time.  It was narrowly avoided this time when Auron decided things had gone more than far enough.  "Now, now children, there's no need for all this pointless bickering, at least not in my presence.  All you shitty-diapered babies can go scream at each other another time.  For now, though, there are boundary lines to be decided upon." He gestured politely to the maps of the Castle on the dinner table.  "Shall we?"

"We shall," Trish said flatly.

"All righty then," Dante said, eager to begin the inevitable battle of the sexes that comes with attempting to achieve any kind of compromise at all.  "Let's get to work." 

The long and brutal meeting which followed these statements resulted in several floors of the Castle being converted to mostly girl or boy territory, with some areas of said floors spared for the other side so that they could at least move on as quickly as possible to their destination, wherever that might be.  Some floors were male only; such as the in-home bar Dante had plans for in the immediate future.  Others were female only, such as the Castle hot tubs.  Residents of the opposite gender had to have exclusive permission to enter, and their escort had to be with them at all times.  Another sex-specific area in the Castle for both sides were the bedrooms, though they would come to be a raiding hot spot in the very near future.  A person of the other sex found in a bedroom had almost no excuse for being there.  Almost.  Wink wink, nudge nudge.

Still more areas were neutral.  Examples include such high traffic locales as kitchens, libraries, and bathrooms.  In some cases whole floors were converted into neutral zones.  Needless to say, Auron's patience was very severely strained almost from the beginning of the negotiations.

"All right, that's ENOUGH!!"  Everyone stopped jawing and looked at Auron.  Most, when they saw his face, concluded that he had, indeed, had enough.  "Good.  Now that I have your undivided attention… Zidane, if you know what's good for you, you WILL look at me when I'm talking to you.  That's better.  Now, don't let your laughably short attention spans wander just yet, as I have an announcement to make…"

"For God's sake, just spit it out already!" Dante exclaimed.

"…I'll deal with you later.  Now, before anyone else decides they want their limbs shortened by about three feet, I wish to say that I will handle the issues of the placement of the Victory March's Gym and the exact size of the Femme Fatales' Health Club at a later date.  Preferably after I've had a few drinks and about a days rest and recuperation.  Until then, all conversations concerning territorial rights are to be handled by my agent, Sir Sword-Up-Your-Ass, Esquire.  Thank you for your cooperation."

Not even Trish disputed this latest ruling from the irate ghost.  Unfortunately, Dante ranks below even Zidane in the tact department.

"But what about-" Dante started.  He was cut off by the sudden and unexpected presence of a rather large katana in an uncomfortably close proximity to his ass.  Dante, not even daring to breathe hard, decided to choose his words very carefully, lest he find himself in a rather unpleasant situation.  "Okay, I can see that you're very tired, Auron, and so I humbly request that you forget any offending actions committed by myself in the last ten seconds.  But only if suits your high and mighty lordship to do so."

After a moment, the katana moved from its highly uncomfortable position, and Dante could breathe again.  "Thank you, oh gracious sir.  Maybe I can buy you a drink sometime."  Auron, somewhat disgusted, then departed to his room for a nice, long nap.

"Man Dante, you sure know how to suck up," Squall snickered, relishing this chance to get sweet, sweet revenge on Dante.

"Well, I learned from the best," Dante snapped back while checking his ass for any lacerations.

"Oh?  And who might that prestigious master of cowardice be?"

"My father, if you must know."

Shocked silence followed this declaration, until Cloud spoke.  "Let me get this straight," he asked, "Your father, the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda, savior of the world and the first to beat Mundus into the dirt from which he was conceived, taught you, Dante, Son of the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda, enslaver of Mundus and possibly the most egotistical person in the world, how to grovel like a kid caught selling dope grovels to his parents, the law, and the District Attorney for forgiveness after indirectly killing a loving couple's son and/or daughter through the illegal sale of heroine."

"Well, first you have to understand two things," Dante said defensively, "One, my mother, Maria, was a very clean and upright person, and would not stand for cussing, filth, or anything else dubbed 'unclean' in her house.  Two, my father was the source of most of the 'unclean' things that found their way into my home.  My father taught me, despite his never-ending pride in himself and his family, to grovel in the interest of self-preservation.  To grovel to one who is your lesser or equal in a given situation is most certainly shameful, but to grovel to one who obviously has the advantage in said situation, why, there is no shame at all."

"Ah, I…see," Squall said, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Good.  Let me take this opportunity to tell all of you good-for-nothing idjits that if I hear one word concerning this incident, there'll be some free one-way tickets passed around to Heiney City."

Zidane, in a rare spat of intelligence, interrupted, "Hey guys, don't you think that, instead of threatening each other with trips to The World Capital of Asses and All Their Kickings, we should be marking off our territory?  The girls left some time ago."

"Good God, Zidane, you're right!  Just what in the name of all food that comes wrapped in air-tight, resealable packages is the world coming to?" Cid exclaimed, "We must hurry, as the women have stolen a march on us!"

"Shit!" Barret yelled, "Let's get goin' then!"

In the time-span of one hour, the entire Castle was marked off for one side or the other.  Incidentally, this is one of the rare occasions when all the members of one faction or the other actually worked together toward a common goal.  In this case, this goal was the savage carving of the Castle into small, bite-sized chunks claimed in the name of either the Victory March or the Femme Fatales.

However, it should be noted that these rigidly defined barriers did not out-last the cheap paint that was used to mark them.  Eventually, the boys and girls developed a kind of neutrality throughout the Castle, and that made it much easier to get around since there was no one to challenge your right to be at a given area at every other step.  Such overly aggressive challenges were a natural ingredient for fights, and there were many before the aforementioned neutrality descended.  Only one thing of importance occurred during this period of gender-based violence, and it will be chronicled in Chapters 5 and 6.  However, there is one event that I have to record, and that will be Chapter 4.


	4. Every Dog Has His Day

4.Every Dog Has His Day

In the Castle garage, Cid was working on a new machine.  Unlike everyone else in the Castle, Cid was usually up dark and early before dawn.  He was using his alone time today in an effort to create a robotic bodyguard.  Since he had no prior plans as to the weapons it would carry, he simply tried out random objects until he found the right ones.

"Yeah, that shotgun fits perfectly right… here.  Dante'll never miss it.  Oh, and this tank of compressed air, when combined with some of Tidus' knobby Blitzballs, will make a perfect addition to my precious baby.  Yes, yes… one of Tifa's boxing gloves, when a spring is added, will be extremely helpful…"

            Of course, Cid would not merely limit himself to using the contraption only in self-defense.  Why, the possibilities for mischief and mayhem were simply too great to let go.  Besides, some people he could name deserved a little rough treatment.

"Ah… now she is complete.  All that is left to do now is find the damn power switch…"

As Cid fumbled with the machine, he did not notice a dark shape stalking him through the early morning darkness.

"God dammit all!  Is it too much to ask that the damn power switch be within easier reach?"  Cid did not stop to remember that he had put the power switch on himself.

The figure drew ever closer.  A dagger glinted faintly in the gloom.  Closer… closer…

"Of all the frikkin'…!  Oh, here it is."

One flick later, the machine hummed to life.  After a moment spent booting up and checking for errors, it scanned the surrounding area for its creator.  It found him dancing around in little circles just in front of it.  It also found an intruder creeping up on the creator with some form of weapon in hand.

Immediately a huge spotlight lit the attacker up, revealing it to be Zidane, who blinked owlishly in the bright light, trying desperately to regain his sight.  Almost before Cid could turn around to see who was trying to rob him, a shotgun blast rang out.  Zidane barely managed to dodge it, and was still a little off-balance when a large knobby Blitzball caught him squarely in the stomach, doubling him over.  Before Zidane could even crawl away or Cid could applause, Tifa's boxing glove shot out and hit Zidane a resounding uppercut to the chin.  The force of this last blow was sufficient to send him flying out the window.  That the window was closed and barred with titanium rods was irrelevant.  That Zidane went out it was what mattered.  After this favorable display of ability, the robot proceeded to go into standby mode, which could last anywhere from five minutes to forever.  Time has no meaning to a machine.

"Son of a bitch!  It works!  I never dreamed it would be so fast!  But of course, it _is_ understandable, seeing as I am the best mechanic in the world.  I'm so damn bad it hurts." Cid resumed his little victory dance.

"Ahem."

Cid turned around to see Dante, Tidus, and Tifa standing in the doorway, with generally angry faces all around.  "Oh shit!  I mean, uh… Hi guys, erm, what's up?" he stuttered.

"You know good and damn well what's up." Dante said, "I distinctly heard my shotgun go off in here.  And, seeing that… thing in the corner, I can't help but think that you just might've put my shotgun somewhere within."

"I second that," Tidus seconded, "as I heard a Blitzball strike someone with considerable force in this room.  Judging by the sound of the hit and the average Blitzball bounce physics when out of the water, I'd say that the unfortunate person on the receiving end of the ball was small of frame and lightweight, most probably Zidane."

"I third that," Tifa thirded, "as I too heard one of my possessions sound off in this room.  Namely a heavy-duty steel-reinforced boxing glove that, judging by the size of the hole in yonder window, probably was the last blow to the victim – who is, like Tidus said, most likely Zidane – that sent him out of the aforementioned window."

"And you can both tell all that just by the sounds you heard and the shattered window?  Tell me, how do you do it?" Cid asked.

"Don't try to change the subject, you old fart," Dante grated, "As I said before, you know what we're here for."  Cid, grumbling to himself darkly about how all these lower life forms were going to pay for this insult, proceeded to detach the, ah, "acquired" articles of property from his machine and return them to their rightful owners.

"Thanks a lot," Tidus said flatly.

"Yeah yeah, go on, git outta here afore I put this lance to its intended use," Cid snarled.  When they failed to acknowledge his order and move, he tried again.  "Scram!  Beat it!  I have other things to do besides look at your ugly mugs all day."

"Well, you see, Cid, we've been waiting for you to move out of the way so that we can get at your newest creation," Tifa explained.

"And just why in the hell should I let you fools anywhere near my precious?"

"You're going to have to do a whole lot of seeing to understand this one, Cid, but whether you understand it or not, we are going to destroy your machine," Tidus clarified.

This took a moment to sink in.  "Excuse me, could you speak into my good ear, please?  I thought I just heard you say that you were going to destroy my little girl," Cid said disbelievingly, "Because if you are actually entertaining the notion of committing such an atrocity, I would have to kick all your pansy asses into next week."

"Out of my way, geezer!" Dante shouted.

"Get bent!" came the cheerful response.

And so, in a battle that woke up the entire Castle, Cid valiantly attempted to defend his latest work from the ravages of the three avengers, who, unwittingly, were doing the entire community a favor.  In the end, all that was left of the "little girl" were a few pieces of scrap metal, while Cid was laid out wounded on the floor.

"I hereby damn you all to the deepest, darkest hells imaginable…" he coughed.

"Ah, you'll get over it," Dante said carelessly, uncaring as to Cid's feelings.

_And so Cid was left to sob his eyes out on the floor.  But, true to Dante's prediction, he was over the loss of his best work by midday.  That's not to say he wasn't still sore about it though.  Unlike certain other Castle inhabitants, Cid had a _long_ memory._

_Later, at midday…_

            Cid shuffled on down the hall, his hands buried in his pockets and his shoulders hunched sullenly.  Those stupid fools just didn't realize the joy it gave him to create machines sprung from his own imagination.  They were so jealous of him and his creativity that they would rather he not make anything at all than have his masterpieces scattered about the Castle as testament to their mechanical ignorance.  Yes, that must be it.

            A low growl dragged Cid forcibly from his thoughts.  He stopped and stared at a Blade in the middle of the hall.  The Blade itself was unremarkable, but the fact that it was out in the open and so brazenly threatening Cid was certainly unusual.

            "And just what the hell do you want, freak?" Cid demanded in his gruffest voice.  Maybe he could scare it into leaving.  However, this particular Blade was not so easily frightened, making it even more of an anomaly.  As Cid wondered what this creature had eaten to make it so brave – or stupid – a Marionette clattered up behind it and brandished its crescent blade.

            "You both lookin' for a beat-down?" Cid asked, "Cause I got plenty of pain to share!"  As another puppet approached, Cid was reminded of the last time such an event had occurred.  Abnormally brave monsters had begun molesting the Castle inhabitants just before a monster revolt had exploded.

The slavering Blade leapt at Cid.  He parried its lunge easily with his lance, and countered with an upward thrust.  The unfortunate monster slumped to the ground, gurgling, in a pool of its own blood.  Cid quickly whirled to block a Marionette from disemboweling him.  He speared his latest contender where its heart would have been if it were alive, and, while keeping the body skewered on his lance, used it as a shield.

Yep, another monster uprising was in full swing, and this one was a nasty one in that caught almost everyone in the Castle separated from the others.  This translated, for all the loners in the Castle, into an opportunity to go back to the "good ol' days" of battling alone, with only their wits and skill keeping their hides in one piece.

But things were steadily going downhill for Cid, as he seemed to be the closest to the source of the revolt.  If he didn't find help soon, his chances at living to a ripe old age were pretty grim.  But Cid lived for moments like this, and chomped down resolutely on his cigarette as he fought doggedly on.  His shield was finally torn away, and he was forced to go on the offensive to stay alive.  The world became cut, slash, dodge, thrust, whirl, guard, kick, and punch for Cid.  His cigarette was clipped out of his mouth by a Marionette's blade.  That the puppet got close enough to take a swipe at him was a sure sign that Cid was tiring.  Finally, just as a shotgun-toting marionette was about to give him a few new holes to sport in front of the others, a long burst of fully automatic gunfire sprayed down the hall, mowing down enemies left, right, and center.  Despite his fatigue, Cid still had the presence of mind to hit the dirt.  When the firing ceased, Cid chanced a look around and saw Barret marching down the hall, with his gun arm smoking almost as much as Cid himself.  This reminded Cid of his lost cigarette, and he lit up a new one.

"Took your time getting here," Cid complained.

"Yeah, yeah.  Jus' be grateful I even bothered to save yer old, wrinkly ass," Barret retorted.

"I'll let that remark slide this time, you young whipper-snapper, but only because I am weary due to the fact that I was actually fighting for my life, unlike you with your sissy gun arm."

"It saved yo ass, didden it?  Anyway, do ya still have yo communicator?"

"Nah, it was smashed when a stupid Blade decided it would make a good snack.  I convinced him that my lance would be a much tastier treat."

Barret winced slightly at the rather disturbing mental image this statement put in his mind.  "Damn.  Well, we'd betta get movin' and find someone who does have one.  We need to regroup."

"You're telling me.  Have you seen anyone else?"

"If I had, I wouldn't be here wastin' my time on you.  Lets go."

"All righty, then."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"You've just gotta have the last word, doncha?"

"Yup."

Cid and Barret moved off down the corridor, alert for an attack or a call for help.  After passing through several empty rooms, the delightful melody of combat at its peak reached their ears.  In the next room, they found Zidane, with at least thirty enemy corpses packing the immediate vicinity around him.

"Ah, how I love the occasional fight," Zidane wheezed, "This one, however, will probably go down as one of the most infamous in my book.  I was actually surprised.  Now… I think I need a nap…" He then fell out full-length (such as it is) on the floor.

Barret looked him over.  "Well, blow me down.  The little thief took a pretty good bit o' punishment here.  Might actually need medical attention."  He shook his head.  "We'd better bring him 'round."

"I'll take care of that," Cid said helpfully.  He grabbed Zidane by the collar and shook him roughly.  When Zidane continued to snore, Cid took out a small bottle of smelling salts from a pocket in his vest.  "I'd hoped I wouldn't have to use this…" he sighed regretfully, and shoved the bottle, uncorked, up Zidane's nose.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHCHOOOOOOOO!!!" Zidane's sneeze rattled the windows.  "You fool!" he coughed, "Do you have any… any… aaaAAAHHHHCHOOOOO!" After a few sniffles, Zidane continued,  "Do you have… any idea how strong… that stuff is?  There's enough in that one bottle to make even Ganondorf allergic to it!"

"Really?  I thought it was just some kind of extremely strong whiskey," Cid replied innocently.  Barret snickered.  Oh all right, Barret outright guffawed. 

When he finally was able to bring himself under control, Barret said: "Ahem… Zidane, do ya still have yo' communicator?"

"Yeah.  Why?"

"We need it to get in touch with the others.  Hand it over."

Zidane didn't like the tone in Barret's voice, nor did he like being ordered around.  "What if I don't want to?"

"I'll bludgeon yo head in with my gun arm.  Then Cid will have a go at ya."

Zidane recalled a saying that a wise man had once told him. 'The willowy weed bends to escape destruction, while the proud oak is toppled by the storm.' "Okay, okay.  Jeez, don't get your knickers in a knot."

Cid relieved Zidane of his comm. unit and dialed up the emergency frequency, which overrode all other frequencies currently being used.  "Hey, fools!  If anyone's still got a comm., respond within the next five minutes or I'll fart over the air!"

The first voice to come back was Fox's.  "Good God, Cid!  Don't even joke about something like that!"

"I'll joke about whatever I damn well please.  Speaking of Bill Gate's spawning grounds, where in it are you?"

Static.  Just as Cid was going to carry out his threat, Fox replied, "Floor 6, Room 8.  If you feel like a fight, you'd better get here quick!"  In the background, Cid could hear fighting and much cursing.  It sounded like world-class devil hunter Dante was in his element.

Barret had a map.  "Floor 6, hmmm… 3,4,5, ah here it is.  Now for Room 8…" In times of crisis, rooms like the kitchen lost their names and were called by number so as to prevent screw-ups.  "Shit on it!  Where's Room 8?  Damn *BLEEPED*ed up numbering system…"

Cid snatched the map from Barret's grasp.  "Look here, idiot!  It's right there, and we're right there.  Now, if your limited intelligence will permit it, tell me the quickest way up there."

Barret studied the map carefully a moment, then stated with much aplomb, "Straight up!"

Cid and Zidane stared for a minute.  "Pardon?" Cid asked.

"Yeah!  See, if we're where you say we are on dis map, Fox is in the room right over us!"

"Hot damn!  So he is!  But, Barret, did you think far enough into your brilliant plan to figure out how we get through at least three feet of solid stone?"

Now only Zidane stared from one to the other disbelievingly. "Don't tell me you guys are actually planning on blasting through that ceiling?"

"Our esteemed colleague Zidane has jus' supplied us with an solution," Barret answered Cid, "I'll just put ol' Betsy into overdrive here…" His gun arm began revving up.

In the room above, Fox and Dante were mopping up when a large crack appeared in the floor under them.

"What the hell do you think that is?" Dante asked.

"I ain't got a clue.  But it would seem that someone wants up," Fox replied, "Perhaps we'd better move."

And move they did.  About fifteen seconds later a large hole was blown in the floor.  Barret, Cid, and Zidane climbed up through.

"See?  Told ya they'd be here," Barret crowed.

"Um, Barret?  You realize that you are going to pay for that hole in the floor, don't you?" Dante inquired pleasantly, "It'll be about $1,500 for damages and $2,500 for the labor I'll have to go through watching you fix it."

"Why don't you kiss my-" But Barret was cut off when the floor started to shake violently.

"What in God's name…?!" Cid asked of God, for lack of anyone else better to ask.

"That, oh smoking one, is the sound of a rather large boss type creature coming 'round the mountain," the Head Man answered.

"What mountain?" asked Zidane.

"It was a figure of speech, you brainless dolt," the Smiting One replied.

"Oh."

"Here it comes!" Dante called.

And come it did, with dramatic smoke, lights, and explosions to boot.  It had huge horns, lots of teeth, glaring red eyes, hooves for feet, hooks for hands, a tail with a spiked ball on the end, coarse bristles covering its body, and…  "Here I am!" it squeaked.

… A hilariously high, squeaky voice.  Fox was the first to snicker. Then Cid, then Dante, then Barret and Zidane.

"Stop laughing!  It's not funny!  My voice only sounds like this because some worthless underling of mine decided it would be great fun to have me breathe helium in my sleep right before the big attack!" it squealed.

Hearty bellows of laughter followed this statement, which infuriated the boss to no end.

"Bastards!  Take this!"

And so the fight began.  Despite it's laughably shrill voice, the boss proved a worthy opponent.  It started off with a lunge at Dante, who knew from painful experience that one does not stand in the way of large monsters moving rapidly in one's direction.  He sidestepped, and when the boss ploughed into the wall behind him, proceeded to take advantage of Boss Boy's undignified position by slashing its vulnerable backside repeatedly, leaving many bright red marks, but no real harm to it on the whole.

"Son of a BITCH!" Bossy's voice rose a couple of octaves, "You'll pay for that!" it pulled its head from the wall and whirled, only to be met by a barrage of bullets and lasers, courtesy of Barret and Fox.  Most bounced harmlessly off his thick head, but one laser put out an eye.  "Damn you!"

Zidane leapt on Bossy's back like some kind of wild monkey and yelled right down its rather sensitive ear, "Guess WHO!" He then went on to cause a much pain as possible to the boss by slicing at its throat as often and deeply as he could.  He managed a few good gashes, but was finally forced off the thing's back when it smashed into a wall and scraped him off on a window ledge.

"All right, that's it!  I've had enough of you cretins!" Bossy shrilled.  When Dante charged, it picked him up and used his momentum to heave him onto a table, which immediately collapsed and left Dante winded.  Zidane got a running start and threw himself at Bossy again, but was clipped out of the air by one of its hooks.  "HA!  Take that, losers!"

"Hey, Lucy Belle!" Cid shouted, "You forgot me!"  As the newly provoked monster turned around, Cid flipped him the bird.  "You couldn't take me if I had one hand tied behind my back, bitch!"

"Bitch" roared, (well, squawked) and charged Cid, arms flailing.  The two dueled fiercely for a moment, pausing only when Cid speared the boss's ankle something nasty.  "Owowowowowowwww!" exclaimed the monster, "Damn!  Shit!  That hurts to all hell and back!  Owowowow!"  It was now hopping around on one foot.

Cid decided it was time to bust out his ace in the hole.  "Up!" he shouted as he leapt at Bitch the Boss's head.  "Over!" as he sailed over the boss and kicked off the wall behind it. "And GONE!" when he back- flipped and drove his spear into the back of Bitch Boy's skull.  Blood spurted, brains splattered, and bone crunched as Cid's lance drove its way through the head and jutted out of the good eye.  The monstrosity crumpled in a heap, with Cid still dangling from the shaft of his lance.

Cid jerked his bloodied weapon out of the monster.  "Damn, I'm good!" he said as he strutted all around the room, posing ridiculously all the while.  "Yeah! YEAH, all you worthless pukes!  Who's the man?  Huh?  HUH?  I smoked his ass so hard and fast he was still on fire when he got to hell!  Oh yeah!  Dante is still squatting against the wall out of breath, Zidane is incapacitated in one blow, and Fox and Barret's sissy little guns were no use because I was in the way!  But I, Cid Highwind, took that mother to SCHOOL!  That's another point for old age!  Down twenty points for young jackasses everywhere!  Do you hear me world?  I AM CID HIGHWIND!  HEAR ME ROAR!"

The scene zoomed out to show the whole world 

"RRRROOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHH- ack!"  Cid's mighty roar was interrupted by a fit of coughing.  "God damn dust…"

And so it was that Cid proved his worth to the entire Castle.  His ability was never in doubt again.  At least, not to those who were in the room when Cid went downtown on the boss.  This included Dante, Zidane, Fox, and Barret.  The other men and women were never quite sure whether to believe them or not, somewhat lessening his victory.


	5. A New Friend

5.A New 'Friend'  
  
In the deep, dark woods surrounding Mallet Castle, something stirred. It squinted against the early morning sunlight, and jumped ten feet in the air when a gunshot rang out in the castle. The intruder's sensitive ears and experience with such things told it that it was most likely a pistol shot, and of very high caliber at that. It decided that it would have to be very careful when it invariably discovered an entrance to the keep. It took one last look at the sun, just beginning to show over the horizon, and moved from it's sleeping hollow. It dashed quickly and soundlessly away toward the castle, and after a few minutes you couldn't tell for the life of you (as was most likely to be the case) that anything had ever been here at all.  
  
Bad to the Bone music played as Cloud roared up on his motorbike, fresh from a test drive on the exceedingly rough motorcycle course. His new hog was the result of many long hours spent in the garage, toiling over complicated blueprints, cursing greasy hands when a vital part slipped and caused the complete reconstruction of a given area of the bike, and last, but not by a country mile least, having to endure working within five feet of Cid and his trademark attitude. This by far was the most trying of the ordeals that Cloud had to go through. He speculated that God had laid them out to test his devotion to the bike. In any case, it was now finished. And it was the best he had ever ridden in his life. So HA God. As Cloud took off his helmet, he was filled with joy and happiness. Then he saw Tifa and Aeris both waiting for him at the door. His day was immediately hell again. He sighed, considered getting back on his bike, and then came to the depressing conclusion that they would still be there when he came back. He locked his bike down, looked at the doorway, and sighed when he saw that he wasn't hallucinating earlier.  
  
Squall strolled by the kitchen door. He had planned on dropping in for a quick snack, but upon seeing Cloud, Tifa, and Aeris all in there (at one time no less), he just kept right on strolling. He wasn't quite out of hearing range when the inevitable argument broke out.  
"You outstandingly brazen bitch! Get away from him!"  
"Make me, you disgustingly putrid sack o' shit! Cloud's mine!"  
"Ladies, ladies, there's no need for all this name calling...."  
"You stay out of this!"  
"Yeah! You don't even have a say in the matter!"  
"Can't we all just get along?"  
"NO!"  
"Don't you yell at him!"  
"Oh shut up!"  
And so on in that tone of friendly conversation. Squall considered fighting his way in to help Cloud, but then thought better of it. He reasoned that it was better for only one man to have to suffer than two. His conscience clear, he continued on down the hall. About fifteen feet later, there came a high-pitched shriek and a crash from the kitchen. This was followed by running footsteps. Cloud tore past Squall at a clip Sonic The Hedgehog would be proud of. Squall was forced to jump straight up, or be run down. When he landed, Cloud had already vanished around the bend. Squall decided to follow. As he rounded the corner, a hand snaked out of a door and yanked him inside. Immediately after, Tifa and Aeris dashed by, hunting. Three guesses for whom.   
Cloud removed his hand from Squall's mouth. "You sunavabitch, I saw you in the door. You didn't even look twice. I aught to take my sword and ram it all the way up your ass. You traitorous turncoat you."  
"Eloquent today, aren't we? As to your sword idea, you just try it pretty boy. If you did have the balls to try it, there would indeed be a good deal of combining of asses and swords, but I seriously doubt that you would enjoy the experience." Squall answered coolly.  
Damn him, Cloud thought. Squall always seemed to do everything coolly, from eating to insulting to kicking ass. "I would, believe me, but I need your help."  
"And you expect to get help from me after that threat and branding me a traitor?"  
"You can prove me wrong by helping me out here."  
"Hmm....So I can. But the fact remains. You threatened me with a, quote, 'sword rammed up my ass.'"  
"Grrrrrr.....Fine. I'm sorry. Look, I'll buy you a drink sometime. Just help me okay?"  
"...........Whatever. Suits the hell out of me. So, how is it exactly that you need help? The girls seem to be acting about as normal as usual."  
"That's because you haven't had the 'privilege' of living with them for over two years. They may seem normal to you, but to me they're much more tenacious than usual. For example, when they fight, they usually don't break stuff. This time they shattered Malon's prized Oriental platter."  
"God save their souls. Anyway, I see your point. But what do you want me to do?"  
"I need shelter and escape routs from all the Rainbow Soldiers in order to keep my hide in one piece until this blows over. When I say 'shelter,' I mean provisions, books, anything that can help me be as self-sufficient as possible. The less I am seen over the next few days, the better."  
"*snicker* Assist you in being self-sufficient?"  
"What? Oh damn, you know what I mean!"  
"Alright alright, I'll see what I can do. Most should agree to help a fellow Soldier in need."  
"Most?"  
"The few who don't agree will just have to be convinced."  
"Ah."  
"Yeah. Now, hole up here for a bit while I enlist the help of the other guys. I assume I need not tell you to be as quiet as possible. If they poke their heads in, there's an empty space under this floor stone here that we use to hide things from the girls every now and then. Dante uses it mostly for smuggling such forbidden things as, ah, 'Special' magazines and......well.....that's it. At least you'll have something to do while you wait. The time of my departure draws near, but before I go, let us pray to God that Tifa and Aeris don't think to search here."  
Cloud and Squall bow their heads a moment, then Squall vacates the room. Cloud is left to his own devices, which, judging by the information revealed by Squall not very many moments ago, are best left undescribed.  
  
Squall stepped from the room, straightened his jacket, and turned to strut off on his mission. He took one step, and had to stop short to avoid running Tifa and Aeris over. Though his face betrayed nothing, his mind was racing. Had they heard his conversation with Cloud? If so, how much had they heard? Depending on what, if anything, overheard, what was his punishment? He came to the decision that he would stall for Cloud. He cleared his throat loudly. Very loudly.  
"AHEM. Hello TIFA. Hello AERIS. How are you today?" he said, you guessed it, coolly. He leaned against the door to Cloud's hideaway.   
"Oh, fine. We were just looking for Cloud. Have you seen him?" Tifa asked.  
"Why, now that you mention it, Cloud did come tearing around that corner a moment ago. He's long gone by now. What happened?" Squall answered innocently.  
"Well, it seems he suddenly remembered something very important all of a sudden and ran off. Do you have any idea as to what it could be?" Aeris questioned.  
"Not for the life of me. But I could spare a few minutes to help you look for him." Squall had a plan.  
"Thanks bunches Squall. That would be a big help." Tifa accepted gratefully.  
"Okay. We can start by looking in this room here." He opened the door and motioned the girls in. "Ladies first."  
They stepped into the room. Squall noted with satisfaction that the floor stone was perfectly in place, right on down to the pattern matching. He moved over and stood on it, pretending to look up into the rafters. Aeris glided to an old couch and proceeded to search it by kicking it repeatedly. Squall winced every time. Not noticeably, of course. Meanwhile, Tifa had marched over to a moldering wardrobe and was punching it to smithereens. Squall began to see what Cloud was so desperate to escape from.   
Finishing his search of the ceiling, Squall finally ventured, "Well, it seems he isn't here. I'd help you some more, but I've got to go spar with Dante. Got to keep the men in shape, you know." And he walked out.  
After a few more seconds of trashing the room in their search for Cloud, the Devilish Duo vacated the room as well. Cloud breathed again. He then climbed out of the cubbyhole and locked the door. If the girls found it locked again when they came back to search the room again, it would arouse no particular suspicion, as all doors in Castle Mallet were locked and unlocked at least ten times a day. No one bothered to keep track of it. Once that job was accomplished, Cloud lit a candle, picked up a magazine, and sat down to wait.  
  
After Squall had left the room, he had set off at a trot to find Zidane. He would help Cloud. If not out of the goodness of his heart, then for a platter full of sandwiches. Squall started by looking in the many kitchens throughout the castle. Then the lounges. Then finally everyone's bedrooms. After many hours of searching, Zidane was nowhere in sight. That was a very bad sign. If Tifa and Aeris had gotten to him first and offered him enough food, Zidane would probably have already found Cloud. Cloud would feel betrayed, but worse, Squall would be remembered as hiding him. Praying that he was not too late, Squall ran for the hideaway at top speed.  
  
Cloud yawned. He was bored. Why? Because Trish had apparently found this little hidey-hole and had cleaned it out. Most likely into the castle furnace. All that was left was one Time Magazine. And Cloud had read it twice already. Then it hit him like a two-ton boulder.   
"OH SHIT! If Trish knows this place, she'll tell the girls to come look here! I've got to get out of here!" As he was heading for the door, the lock rattled. He stopped short. What to do, what to do? Where could he hide? He realized that he was officially screwed. So he just stood in the middle of the room and waited for the inevitable pain and torture.......  
Then he heard a crash, then a scuffle just outside the door. It must be Squall! It was about damn time, in Cloud's opinion. After a moment, the fight ceased, and the tune "Shave and a Haircut" was tapped on the door. Cloud rushed to open it. As soon as it was unlocked, Squall shoved his way in, carrying Zidane over his shoulder.   
"Where have you been, man? I've been waiting forever!" Cloud exclaimed.  
"You blew through that many magazines so quickly?" Squall asked incredulously.  
"Trish found the stash. There was only one Time Magazine."  
"Her way of saying 'get a life,' I suppose. The girls got to Zidane before I could find him. As such, he is no longer a reliable compatriot. At least not today. Maybe tomorrow we can win him over. For now, I need three things: that cubbyhole, a heavy chain and padlock set, and an unconscious Zidane. Step aside please." Squall proceeded to dump Zidane unceremoniously into the hole, throw the Time Magazine in after, shut the lid, and padlock it tightly. He estimated that, depending on how long Zidane would be out, the improvised prison would hold him for maybe, say, five hours, give or take. But it was the best that could be done under the circumstances.   
"You done yet? We have to split, and I'm talking ten minutes ago!" Cloud grated nervously.  
"I'm finished. Let's go." Squall replied coolly (do I even have to say how he does things anymore?).  
They evacuated the room with all due haste. They turned in the direction of Dante's room, as he had tunnels leading to just about everywhere in the castle in his room of sleeping. About fifteen minutes into their escape, they heard woman's voices. They immediately ducked around the corner. Directly after they settled themselves to wait, Katt and Fara rounded the corner, chatting amiably. Surprising, really. The two were usually at each other's throats over various matters best left untold. Only something they had a mutual interest in (besides men) would be enough to enable them to tolerate each other for any length of time. That they were chatting like old biddies at a quilting bee meant that whatever they were up to was pleasurable in the extreme for them. Squall and Cloud could count the number of such activities on one hand between them. Certain foods, weapons of mass destruction, the pain and discomfort of chosen hated ones, and........  
The answer hit both refugees at the same time. Like Dante hits bars. Very, VERY hard. The last shared interest between the two Femme Fatales was a good hunt. Preferably a hunt of intelligent prey. Like the men. The two guys began to sweat profusely. They could only hope that the viscous man-eaters would soon pass and be gone.  
The women were almost gone when Katt suddenly stopped short. She lifted her nose, sniffed lightly, snorted, and rubbed her nose furiously.  
"Damn that stinks!" she coughed.  
"What? I don't smell....... Wait. Now that you mention it, I smell something bad too." Fara said.  
"You damn straight it's bad! I haven't smelled something this bad since Fox came in from working on his Arwing all sweaty and covered in oil."  
"It does carry the scent of sweat." Fara conceded, casting about, "And the scent is of nervous perspiration." Fara finally stopped turning in circles, looking straight at the boys' hiding spot. "Now I wonder if that could be the man we're after....." she growled lightly.   
"Maybe. If it is, Tifa and Aeris will surely be pleased. I hesitate to conjecture what they'll do to him. They will probably break out their trademark torture kit, which was last used on Sephiroth when he attempted to kill Aeris. There sure wasn't much left of him to talk about after that little incident." Katt purred menacingly.  
All these mind games were just too much for Squall and Cloud. As the two hunters advanced, Cloud's nerve broke. "Run! Run for your life! If you're captured, do yourself a favor and kill yourself if you can't break free! Trust me, I know what to expect from them!"  
Squall secretly agreed, but would never put on a display like that in public. Word would get around. As fast as Zidane steals wallets. His reputation would be marred forever after, providing he lived through the horrible, unspeakable tortures he would undoubtedly be subjected to. Cloud, however, could be excused.  
In the scant seconds that they were in hearing range of each other, Squall shouted, "Meet me at coordinates 56-42-90! Do not be followed! You have ten minutes!" Then they were cut off from further contact by the simple yet arduous task of keeping one's head on one's shoulders.  
  
Cloud ran. He ran as if Barney himself and all his mamsy-pamsy wussy-ass friends were half a yard behind his heels wanting to hug and be all snuggly and cute. As it was, what was actually about half a yard behind his heels was not that much better. Fara had chosen the primary prey and was on the verge of slavering at the mouth. Her quarry had managed to escape her for longer than the expected three minutes. As of yet, she had not had the pleasure of hunting anyone but Fox, and he was wise to all her tricks. Cloud, however, was fresh prey, unknowing as to all the various lengths that she would go through to run him to earth. He ran as if possessed of unlimited stamina, ducking, dodging and rolling in an effort to give her the slip. Occasionally, he would whirl at bay, and Fara would match up against the fighting ability of a desperate and nearly crazed Cloud, who's only desire at the moment was to escape to the appointed coordinates in the five minutes remaining to him. The last time he did this, she stopped a good seven feet away, wary of his Buster Sword.   
She decided that some mind games were in order.   
"Give up, Cloud. You'll never make it. You can't shake me off. The one and only end to this contest is your capture at my hands. It'll go over a lot easier on both of us if you just lay down your sword now. Come on. Face the facts. Surrender to my will." she said invitingly.  
However, Cloud had no intention of being taken down to hell without a fight. "Shut it, Fara. You and I both know what they'll do to me. If you want the prize, you'll have to go through six feet of cold steel, five feet of raw muscle, and twenty feet of hard determination! So you just bring whatever you've got to this one. I dare you." he taunted.  
"Alright! Just remember you asked for it, boy!" she snarled. With that, Fara leaped at Cloud's throat. He brought the flat of the blade up and shoved firmly. A crack sounded, and Fara reeled back, a small amount of blood showing on her lip. She licked it off with a sadistic grin on her face that said, 'Ah, first blood.' Cloud assumed a ready stance. Fara made several feints and flanking movements, until finally Cloud's back was up against a wall. A dead end. No running from this battle. Cloud swallowed, and tightened his grip on his sword. After a moments pause, Fara dashed in and attempted to knock the sword out of Cloud's hands. He held on to it, but was shifted slightly off balance. Fara pressed her advantage and pinned him against the wall, hoping to crush him into submission. Cloud managed to retain a little breathing room, and gained a handhold on Fara's arm, preventing her from cutting off his air supply. They strained at each other, their faces centimeters apart. Cloud's sense of humor chose this opportunity to show its ass.  
"You know, under certain other circumstances, this would actually be a pleasant position for me." he gasped, cracking a smile.  
Fara's eyes flashed fire, but she could do nothing without forsaking her advantage, possibly giving Cloud the space he needed to make a comeback. She contemplated a head butt, but thought better of it when she got a good look at his spikey hair. So instead she retorted, "You wish. You couldn't get a girl in a thousand years. The reasons? Your horrible looks, lack of intelligence, and pathetically weak physique. That's just not gal-nabbing material."  
"Oh yeah? What about Tifa and Aeris? I doubt highly that they could look over bad looks and stupidity both in a man. And the fact that I am able to match you in a fight proves my strength."  
Then Cloud did something completely unexpected. No, he didn't kiss Fara, though he had the perfect chance to do that. He dropped his sword, freeing his other hand, and caught Fara a good one in the kidneys. She gasped, stumbled back, and crumpled to the floor with a sigh. Cloud stood there, muscles quivering from the immense strain put on them, almost dumbfounded that he had won. He had fully expected to go down at her hands, made into bragging rights for Fara from that time onward. He heard slow clapping, and turned to see a most welcome sight. It was Dante, looking for all the world as if he had just seen God get beaten by an ant. Fara coughed heavily. Cloud crouched over her.  
"You, *cough* You son of a........ you'll pay for this......" she groaned.  
"Be quiet, lest I jab your kidney again." he commanded, "We'll mix it again, but not for a long, long while."  
She gave one last groan, and was still. Cloud checked for a pulse, fearing he had overdone it, and was relieved for a reason unknown to him that she was not dead. Perhaps it was his conscience showing through again. It was so embarrassing at times.  
"Dude, that was one of the most subtle and painful ways of finishing a fight I have ever seen. You okay?" Dante exclaimed.  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just get me to coordinates 56-42-90. I'm supposed to meet Squall there in," Cloud glanced at his watch, "two minutes." And he keeled over next to Fara. Dante shook his head, heaved Cloud up over his shoulder, and started off for the rendezvous point. As he trotted off, he did not see Fara grin faintly, as if the punch line of a secret joke had just been revealed to her and her alone.  
  
Meanwhile, Squall was enjoying the view from the floor, with Katt on top of him. He sighed, contemplating what to write in his will. He gazed straight at the ceiling, barely blinking. Katt had him by the throat, and one arm was pinned down in a highly uncomfortable position. His gunblade lay eight feet away, well out of reach. He blinked, and shook his head. Katt's grip on his throat tightened in response. For the fifth time, Squall analyzed his position. He was on his back on the floor, with Katt on top of him, one hand around his throat, the other holding his arm down. The other arm lay limply, paralyzed from the same blow that had sent his weapon flying. Unless help arrived in the next few minutes, his chances of getting out of here were somewhere in the range of 0.5% to 0. He closed his eyes and sighed, wishing the whole matter was just a dream. That he, Squall Leonhart, had been bested in battle was only a nightmare brought on by extensive exposure to Zidane's presence. Granted, he was taken by surprise, but he was bested nonetheless. Katt's hiss down his ear brought him back to reality.  
"You know, right now I could do anything I wanted with you. Torture, maybe. Or something else....." she purred.  
Squall strained against her. "You crazy @#$%! I'm taken! Go trap someone else! Rinoa would be heartbroken. She'd probably die from heartsickness!" He grated.  
"Hmmmm, when you put it that way, I suppose I should restrain myself. That leaves torture. Luckily, I was born with some torture tools." Katt agreed, unsheathing her claws, "Prepare yourself, fugitive."  
Here it comes, Squall thought. He drew a breath, waiting for her claws to rake down his arm. Just before she was able to gash him in any way, a furry ball of pure energy bulled into her left side, crushing her against the wall and ploughing her to the ground. Squall staggered to his feet, grabbed his gunblade, and turned to face this new entity, friend or foe. What he found himself looking at was a furry bipedal mammal of some sort, wearing blue jeans and red shoes. The overall body shape was that of a triangle, with a large, sensitive looking nose and eyes that seemed to take in the world, and process the information into a simple diagram of danger and safety.  
"You, hurt?" the creature, a boy obviously, asked.  
"Not much. Who are you?" Squall countered.  
"Me? I Crash Bandicoot! Much hungry at moment."  
Ah, that was it. A bandicoot. "Hungry, eh? Well, come along, we can nab a bite to eat in a little bit. For now, we only have," Squall picked up his paralyzed arm with his good one in order to get a look at his watch, "two minutes to reach my goal. Come on if you're coming."  
"I coming! Is food where we going?"  
"After we meet up with a friend of mine, we'll hit the kitchen."  
"Kitchen good. Who friend?"  
"You'll see when we get there."  
"Are we there yet?"  
"No."  
"You sure?"  
"Yes."  
"Okay." Thirty seconds later, "Are we there yet?"  
"Don't start with me Crash." 


	6. Crash Helps Out

6.Crash Helps Out  
  
"Are we there yet?" Crash asked plaintively.  
"No." Squall answered firmly.  
"Are we there yet?"  
"No.  
"Are we there yet?"  
"No."  
"Are we there yet?"  
"No, dammit!"  
Silence for ten seconds. Then, "Are we there yet?"  
"No!"  
"Now?"  
"NO!"  
"....... How about now?"  
"Yes."  
This answer seemed to take Crash by surprise. He looked around. They seemed to be in front of a door. And if Crash knew anything about doors, this one led to a bedroom. It could have been his instinctive knowledge of all doors in existence, not to mention his experience with burglary. Or it could have been the simple presence of a 'Do Not Enter' sign, caution stripes, and the words: 'Link's Room' on the door itself. All in all, it didn't look much like a kitchen. Or a pantry. Or a refrigerator. Or a larder. Generally not a place to go for food. Disappointment flooded through Crash.  
"You said we'd get food here." he whined.  
"I said we'd get food after we met a friend of mine. Now be quiet, lest you draw unwanted attention to us." Squall answered (place appropriate descriptive noun here. Hint-It's the temperature of an average day in Alaska).  
"So, where's your friend?"  
"On his way here. Hopefully."  
"How long we wait?"  
Squall consulted his watch. "One minute. If he doesn't show by then, we'll have to assume the worst and move on."  
"The worst?"  
"Extensive torture and possible death at the hands of Tifa and Aeris."  
"Oh."  
Just then, Dante appeared around the bend, carrying Cloud over one shoulder. When he reached Squall and Crash, he dropped Cloud on the ground.  
"Well, that's that. All he said was to get him here." Dante said.  
"Why is he out colder than a fly in the freezer?" Squall asked.  
"He was cornered by Fara. They fought for a while, then he punched her ticket with a hammerblow to the kidneys. She went down, needless to say. I still can't believe that he actually beat her. What about you? You don't look so fresh yourself."  
"Let's just say Katt got a little frisky."  
"You poor bastard."  
"Takes one to know one. Anyway, Cloud needs our help. Our original destination was your room, but Fara and Katt cut us off. Hence the new meeting point."  
Meanwhile, as they chatted, Crash had been nosing around Cloud, looking for food. The snuffling and jostling awakened Cloud, and he arose to the rather startling image of Crash's face inches from his own. He would have swatted it away, but he was too weak to do anything other than let out a high-pitched whine. Squall and Dante whirled around, fully expecting to see Fara bearing down on them, and the door to Link's room burst open, revealing the green-clad savior of the world himself.  
Link inquired pleasantly, "What in all nine hells was that? How the hell is a man supposed to catch forty winks in this god-forsaken castle? I mean, damn! It's bad enough with all you psychopaths running around unrestrained, and now there's weird noises too! For Chrissakes, keep it down! Buncha assholes......"  
*SLAM*   
Squall blinked. "Must be nap time."  
A small flap in the door opened, and Link's hand shot out, flipped Squall the bird, and vanished back inside before anyone took it into their heads to break his finger off.  
Squall blinked again. Twice. "Yup. Definitely nap time."  
The flap opened again, and a double-barrel sawed-off boomstick was shoved through. Everyone not already below waist height ducked just before it triggered.  
*KA-BOOMSTICK*   
The boomstick withdrew, the flap closed, and everyone who was able stood up. Squall chose not to comment on the matter. Dante, however......  
"You know, some people...... What? Squall, put the gunblade down. You don't want to do this! *SMACK* OW! What the hell did I do?! I swear...."  
The doorknob turned ominously. Squall tore off one of Dante's gloves and stuffed it in his mouth. There was silence. The doorknob stopped, then slowly rotated back to it's original position. Booted footsteps could be heard retreating into the depths of the room. Squall ventured a sigh of relief.   
"Whew. Now, Dante, we're heading for your room, as Tifa and Aeris are worse than usual and Cloud needs a good place to hole up in for the next couple of days. Since your room is the nexus of all the secret tunnels in the castle they will search there first. Do not let them discover the tunnels, or Cloud will be found, and you will lose your secret route to the kitchen. I'm taking Cloud and going now. Stall for us, will you? Thanks. Tally ho!" Squall heaved Cloud up and dashed down the hall. Take this opportunity to see Squall's marvelous skills of diplomacy and negotiation.  
"But...... damn. Here I am, left to take his heat, in the form of at least one, possibly two, irate hunters. Oh well. Life's a bitch, and then you die. At least they left you with me. What's your name anyway?"  
"I Crash Bandicoot!" Crash exclaimed.  
"Well, Crash, we have some work to......"  
"Hello, boys."  
Dante stiffened, then turned slowly to see Katt and Fara standing fifteen feet away. Summing up the impossible odds of the coming fight, his attitude kicked in. He cracked a sardonic grin as he made an extravagant bow.  
"Why, hello ladies. My, you're looking fine today. Especially you, Fara. How is your side? Better? I heard that Cloud pulled one over on you, but good. And you Katt, word on the street has it that Crash here beat you into the dirt. Have you recovered? Any critical wounds, you know, like any nails broken, any hair mussed up? Squall sends his regards. Quote, 'Next time I won't be running, bitch! It'll be just you and me!' unquote. I'd be frightened if I were you. *snicker* Bitch. No, wait, I said the wrong thing. Just one moment. Ahem. Okay, here I go. *snicker* Bitches. In the plural. Quite literally in one case."  
Katt smiled nastily. "You know Dante, we were just going to let you go after you told us where Squall and Cloud had disappeared to. But now, I think we can spare some time from our busy schedule to whip you into submission. Am I right, Fara?"  
"Yes. Yes you are. How shall we go about it? Table saw, spiked flail, cat-o-nine tails, or your basic, all-purpose rusty spoon? I personally prefer the spoon, but I'm open to any suggestions you might have." Fara growled, favoring her injured side. They began to advance on Dante and Crash.  
Dante glanced about, and then smelled the acrid reek of gunpowder on the air. His gaze jerked to Link's door, and a fiendish, awful, most horribly Grinchy idea took form in his fertile imagination. He turned to Crash, who was whimpering slightly.  
Dante said, "Crash? Oh Crash?" It seemed that Crash had zoned out for the moment. "Crash!" Dante said firmly, easily grabbing Crash's attention. Once Dante was sure that he had Crash's undivided attention, he looked him over and said, "You look the noisy type. Do both of us a favor a make some noise. Now."  
Not thinking twice about the matter, Crash did so. Anyone in Link's room would have thought that an explosion had gone off in the hall outside. Dante paused to listen, and was able to clearly distinguish determined footsteps and the unsheathing of a sword inside. He snatched up Crash by the scruff of his neck and fled down the hall in a suitably cowardly fashion, calling behind him as he went, "So long, ladies! See you later! Maybe! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" And then he was gone. And Crash with him for those of you who care.  
As Katt and Fara picked up speed to follow, Link's door banged open, cracking the wall where it hit. The elfin avenger stood directly in their path. Just so you know, Link is not a small, wimpy elf. He is on eye level with Dante. Back to the greatly pissed off Link. With a big shield in one hand and a bigger sword in the other. Not a pair of implements you ever want to be on the wrong end of.  
"I asked you nicely, and now I'm going to...... Oh. It's you two bitch fighting again, is it? Well, in my personal opinion, you two have been allowed way too much leeway in the discipline department. So now, I'm going to teach you brats what happens to anyone except Malon who disturbs my rest for any reason at all. Fight back if you must, but whatever happens, you're both gonna get a beating you won't soon forget. Are you ready? Let's go!" He charged, aiming for Fara's crippled side first, which he had identified immediately when he saw them in the hall. A good shield bash would take care of her. Katt, however, didn't seem particularly hurt anywhere on her body. She would be more trouble than Fara, but with Fara down the coming fight would be much easier.  
  
Squall ran hard. He could hear his pursuer's footsteps just around the corner. He had been spotted somewhere in his headlong flight to Dante's room. He knew that he didn't have the stamina to fight a hunter in his present condition, so he quickly ducked into a side room before he was seen again, and the chase renewed. In the darkness, he laid Cloud against a wall and listened with baited breath as the footsteps came around the corner, drew close, slowed slightly, then dashed on with determination. He sighed with relief, and then checked on Cloud. Fatigue was all that really seemed to ail him, and a solid ten hours rest would fix that.  
"Running from the women again, Squall?" Auron's voice sounded from the darkness.  
Squall jumped a foot in the air, then glared at where the voice had come from. "What's it to you?" he asked, "Besides, why are you hanging out in here? That's just a little suspicious, don't you think?"  
"The reasons for my frequenting of dark, out of the way areas of the castle are none of your business. Is there something I can help you with? I need you to move on as quickly as possible so that I will not be discovered."  
"Girl trouble?" Squall joked, "Anyway, I need you to help me help Cloud here. Tifa and Aeris are on the warpath, and he needs....."  
"Sanctuary. I see. I thought that Tifa looked a little more viscous than usual five minutes ago. Well, I suppose I can help. Tell you what. I'll get you to my room, and from there to Dante's. Before we go, we should revive Cloud. We'll travel faster without having to carry dead weight, and fights will be easier with three able men than two men tired out from carrying the incapacitated third. In return, you, Squall, will give me an I.O.U. Whenever I need a favor, which has a disturbingly high probability in the very near future, you will do it without complaint or delay. Of course, unlike Dante, my favor will be well within reason."  
"Dude, haven't you heard? We're all part of one group, the Rainbow Soldiers. You should be able to ask assistance of any ally without need of an I.O.U. But I see Dante hasn't changed his views one bit. I'll handle it later. As to your proposition, fine. However, I don't have anything on me that would revive someone who has just fought Fara. And won."  
Auron blinked. But Squall could not see that, of course. "Excuse me, I thought I just heard you say that Cloud beat Fara in a fight. Would you care to repeat yourself?"  
"You heard right. He beat her. With a punch in the kidneys if my sources are to be believed."  
"Ouch. Then I guess he'll be out of it for the better part of ten hours. If I know Fara, he is exhausted. Well, we'd better get going. I'll get this side, you get the other..." Auron stooped and grabbed Cloud to pick him up. When he lifted to put his arm over one shoulder, Cloud cried out in agony. Mildly startled, Auron promptly dropped Cloud's arm. Cloud glared at him.  
"You..... you...... *pant pant pant* Can't you tell when a man is gravely injured?" Cloud wheezed.  
"Not in the dark, no I can't."  
"Well, I am. It would seem that Fara got her claws in my side here, but I was too drugged by my victory to notice at the time. I began to suspect that something was wrong when Dante gently threw me on his shoulder and jogged off to the rendezvous point. By the time I was sure I was hurt, I was too weak to speak. Dante would've noticed the blood on his trenchcoat, but it was already blood red from his various exploits while taking over the island and it's castle, and enslaving Mundus. In short, he didn't notice, and I'm not sure he would if a bucketfull was thrown on him from behind. Anyway, I passed out, and when I next resurfaced into the world of the living, that furry things face was inches from mine, and I wished I were dead again. I made some sort of sound to alert you to its presence, but it apparently woke up Link, and he came out and berated you all for being lousy noisemakers, and assholes in general. Squall said something then, which made Link poke a boomstick out the door and fire. The discharge knocked me out again, and I did not awake until just now when Auron reminded me that pain is still not a pleasant experience. And that's it. You might want to get me some medical attention, by the way. If it's not too much trouble, that is."  
Just then, frenzied footsteps were heard right outside the door.  
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! What am I going to do? There's at least three girls behind me, and I've lost Squall's trail!" came Dante's voice.  
"Hurry! Hurry! Do something, anything!" Crash pleaded.  
"I got it! Okay Crash, here's what we're gonna do. First, bend over...."  
"Yeah, yeah, then what?"  
"Put your head between your knees....."  
"Got it! What now?"  
"And kiss your ass goodbye."  
"Goodbye, Ass! It's been great knowing you!" *smooch*  
A pause. The girl's footsteps draw ever closer. Crash wiped his mouth and looked at Dante. "You know, I can't see how that helped us in any way, shape, or form."  
"It's a way of admitting that your ass is the grass, and the girls are the mower."  
Crash thought on that for a moment. When he finally put the mower blade (girls weapons) and the tender grass (his ass) together, he began to quiver and whimper pitifully.  
Dante patted him on the back comfortingly. "There, there. No need for all this blubbering. The first thing a man learns in life is perseverance. We'll live to eat another day. So stand tall and take it like a man. Stiff upper lip and all that bullshit."  
As the ominous footsteps grew louder and louder, and Crash's whimperings grew more and more distressed, Auron decided that it was high time to pull their sorry asses out of the fire. He quickly yanked open the door, jerked the two bewildered fugitives inside, and quietly shut and locked the door behind them. The sound of many, many feet running by the door was heard, then silence. Auron turned up his oversized collar disdainfully.  
"Such unobservant cretins. I hope you two realize that my saving your worthless hides was barely worth my time. However, circumstances have made your assistance invaluable to my plans." he sniffed airily.  
"Bite me, ghost-boy. What plans did you have in mind?" Dante snapped, dusting off his trenchcoat.  
"You and your little furry friend are going to help Squall and I get Cloud to your room, so that he may be transported by tunnel to a safe, Tifa and Aeris free zone of the castle. Probably one of the unexplored sections that are inhabited by new and dangerous species of monsters. Much easier to handle than Tifa and Aeris combined. And Cloud needs medical attention."  
"What's wrong with him? He seemed to come through the fight with Fara okay." Dante inquired.  
"'Seemed' being the key word in that statement. He has a gaping wound in his side due to Fara's extraordinarily sharp claws. We need to find Kimahri. He's the best healer on the Rainbow Soldiers, second only to Yuna, of the Femme Fatales." Squall answered.  
"Well, shave my legs and call me grandma. I could've sworn he was just fine." Dante whistled, fully aware that Fara usually poisoned her claws for the hunt.  
"Who Kimahri?" Crash asked.  
"Big fellow, catlike, bipedal, blue fur, and a broken horn in the middle of his forehead." Auron listed.  
"Oh him! I meet him about breakfast, hunting for food in forest outside castle, and....." Crash said brightly.  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up a minute here Crash. When you speak, grunt, squeal, or think of my castle, you will capitalize it. Why? Because it's not just any castle, it's MY Castle. Mallet Castle. Mine. That goes for the rest of you punks as well." Dante lectured.  
".......As I was speaking, I met Kimahri outside Castle while he was hunting small helpless animals for breakfast. We spake a while, then he left in the direction of the sea."  
"So he's gone deep sea fishing again, eh? Well Crash, go get him." Squall said dismissively.  
"Huh?"  
"Did I stutter? Go get Kimahri and bring him to Dante's room. We'll take it from there."  
"But...."  
"You heard the man. Get going." Dante said, ushering Crash out the door.   
  
Upon finding himself in the open, Crash immediately sought out the closest patch of shadows he could find. As he made his way down the hall, he heard those footsteps again. Furthermore, he could hear voices as well. He bounded into the rafters and followed the voices to their source. Within one minute, he found Katt, Fara, Tifa, and Aeris. Katt was leaning against the wall with a tired expression on her pretty face.  
"I swear, never again will I disturb a sleeping elf. I've never been beaten so badly in my life. Oh, my aching head......" she moaned.  
"Here. This ice pack should help. When we find Yuna, she'll fix you right up." Tifa said soothingly.  
"Not before I'm seen to. First, Cloud pulled a fast one on me, but I caught him with my claws. Then, Link whales on us like a raging bull, deliberately hitting my injured side with his shield. I'll probably be bedridden for a week, maybe two." Fara coughed from the hallside bench, where she was stretched out in agony.  
"I wish I had some painkillers for you, Fara, but I don't. Do you think your wound is serious?" Aeris asked concernedly.  
"No worse than Cloud will be once my patented poison goes to work."  
"Speaking of that poison...."  
But Crash did not deem it worthy to hang around any longer, and swung off through the rafters to find Kimahri. Using his primitive logic, Crash sorted through the most likely places that Kimahri would be. Judging by Kimahri's newly revealed activity, Crash guessed that he would most probably be through fishing by now, and would either be on his way to the Castle, or in one of the many kitchens cooking his meal. Crash tuned his nose to scent raw or cooking fish so as to search more efficiently. Raw fish came to his nose almost immediately, and he rounded the nearest corner to find its source. The scent led to a kitchen and Crash looked in eagerly, hoping to see the object of his search, but found only Zidane dragging a whole swordfish from the refrigerator with a dagger in his hand. Crash paused long enough to watch him heave the fish onto the nearest bar and proceed to draw and quarter it. Crash filed the scene away and moved on. After an hour, he ran across Fox, who had his blaster to a Marionette's head. Going by the broken glass and red stains on Fox and in the carpet, Crash could make an educated guess as to what had happened.  
"You clumsy pile of firewood! You idiotic heap of kindling! You appallingly stupid stack of lumber! Do you know what I'm going to have to do with the clothes I'm wearing now?" Fox yelled, "They're all going to have to be thrown away! I'd order you to be more careful the next time you carry red wine, but by God there won't be a next time for you! If you have any last words, you'll have to tell them to Satan! See you in hell!" And he blew its head off. A red mist of blood floated in the air for a moment, the settled to the floor, adding to the red stains in the carpet. Fox stalked off, swearing up and down that all Marionettes everywhere were stupid, clumsy, idiotic, and other things that are best left unrepeated.  
Crash filed away several new and interesting words in his vocabulary, and then resumed his search for Kimahri. After two more hours of fruitless searching, he decided to take a break. The next kitchen he came to was too good to pass up, so he went on in. Inside the comforting environment of the kitchen, he went straight for the fridge. He rooted about in the cool interior, and resurfaced with a piece of cake, two cooked hot dogs, a bagel, four strips of raw bacon, an apple, and a pitcher full of lemonade. And that was just the appetizer. He seated himself at the table and began eating. By 'eating' I mean 'voraciously tearing into anything that looked remotely like food within a five-foot radius.'  
"Hungry, little one?" a vaguely familiar voice said from across the table. Crash looked up briefly and beheld a sorta familiar blue-furred face, with a dimly remembered broken horn. Everything took a backseat to Crash's appetite, even the memory of everyday objects such as tables and metal blocks. They were all food to him in his present state. Similar conditions exist in Dante, but to a somewhat lesser degree. Primed with that interesting tidbit of data, it should be easy for even the thickest of you readers out there reading this mind-numbingly amusing story to see why Crash did not recognize Kimahri, the reason behind his search in the first place.  
Crash uttered an affirming grunt then turned himself back to the task of shoving 'food' down his throat. After ten minutes of watching Crash inhale anything within the aforementioned radius, Kimahri sighed and got up from the table and left Crash to his own devices. As he exited the kitchen, it finally dawned on Crash that the person he had just been grunting at looked suspiciously like Kimahri. But it couldn't be, his tiny mind reasoned, because Kimahri had just been fishing, and would have caught some fish. Crash had not smelled any fish in the kitchen he was in, cooked or raw. Smoke began to waft out of Crash's ears as he tried to figure this puzzle out. Finally coming to a conclusion, he decided to check the character in question out and see if he was Kimahri or not.  
He leaped up from the table and tore out of the room. He caught up with Kimahri in two seconds, and stood there, glaring suspiciously at Kimahri. Kimahri started at his sudden appearance, then glared right back. After three minutes of this staring contest, it became apparent to Kimahri, whose eyes were watering slightly, that Crash had no intention of blinking. He probably didn't need to. So, as to not lose the contest, Kimahri poked Crash in the eyes. Crash yelped and jumped back, blinking furiously to ease the pain in his orbs of vision.  
"Is there something I can help you with, oh small one of smaller brain?" Kimahri asked.  
"Who are you?" Crash asked, feeling blindly about for his quarry.  
Kimahri backed up just out of Crash's reach and replied, "I am Kimahri, remember? We met in the forest not too long ago."  
"How I know if it really you? You might be imposter." Crash said.  
"Oh? And how do you come to the conclusion that I might not be who I say I am?" Kimahri inquired, raising an amused eyebrow.  
"Because a while ago, you went deep-sea fishing. Then you came back. Now, if you were the real Kimahri, you would have come in and cooked your catch. I smelled no such smells on you or in the kitchen you were just in."  
"What if I told you that I did not catch anything?"  
That stopped Crash cold. He had not even entertained the notion that Kimahri had been as unsuccessful in his fishing as Cloud is at keeping Tifa and Aeris under control. That would explain why his nose had not helped track him at all. For all Crash knew, he might have come a room away from Kimahri and passed him right on by in the mistaken belief that Kimahri would be carrying or cooking fish. "Nothing at all?"  
"Nothing at all, which seems to be the sum total of your brain power and common sense. What do you need me for?"  
Crash related all that had happened to Cloud and the rest since Crash had joined them. When he finished, Kimahri shook his head resignedly.  
"If it wasn't for me, you'd all die of food poisoning caused by eating hemlock on your salads because you mistook it for lettuce. Alright, where are they now?"  
And so it was that Crash found his man and returned with him to Dante's room. When they arrived, they found the place trashed beyond all belief. There were bullet holes in the walls, craters in the floor, the bed was ripped apart, the single window was shattered, the door hanging on one hinge, a knife stuck in the door frame, and the secret tunnel hatch swinging forlornly open. All in all, it looked like the girls had found Dante and the rest of the escort convoy and had jumped them in the room just as they were about to open the hatch. That meant tunnel fighting was either raging now, or had already finished with one side or the other victorious. An explosion sounded from the depths of the tunnels. So the scrap was still on.  
"Two words. Oh. Shit." Kimahri stated simply.  
"What we do now?" Crash asked.  
"What do you mean, 'we'? You're the one going in there to get Cloud out."  
"What?!? No way! I not go in there for one hundred....." A shotgun blast sang out from the foreboding mouth of the tunnels, followed by a sustained burst of heavy machine gun fire. Crash rethought his statement. "......five hundred hamburgers."  
"Don't you care about his safety and well-being?"  
"Not anymore."  
"You selfish little bastard. Fine, I'll go in and rescue Cloud. I'll be the one who has his everlasting gratitude and thanks. I'll be the one he calls on in the future when he's in trouble. I'll get the reward, which will probably be money in ridiculous amounts. All while you tear out all the hair on your small head in jealousy and frustration, wishing that you had saved him instead of me." Kimahri said disgustedly as he crouched down to enter the hatch.  
"Wait just one burger-chomping minute," Crash exclaimed, tapping Kimahri on his broad shoulder, "What was that about money?"  
"What, the part about getting paid money in ridiculous amounts? What about it?"  
"Imagine how much food I could buy with that much money! At least a thousand burgers! I'll do it!" And Crash shoved Kimahri aside in order to squirm headlong into the dark recesses of hell......  
  
A bullet buried itself in the tunnel wall directly in front of Dante's nose. He ducked backwards and crawled back the way he had come, which led to a dead end. Once he was reasonably sure he was unobserved, he took a moment to rub the drop of blood on the end of his nose away. He was in deep bull excretement. The escort had become separated in the tunnels, and now were scattered all over the network. Dante wished he had someone to talk to right now, as he hated the idea of dying alone in the tunnels. Well, okay, maybe not die. Capture and torture anyway. Regardless, he wished there were someone, anyone (almost) there to share his fate.   
'Ah, well. No one lives forever.' He thought, 'Might as well go out with a bang!' Dante loaded his shotgun, checked his pistols to see if they were jammed, and downed a coke to psych himself up. As ready as one can be for this sort of thing, he straightened to a half-crouch, which was all he could manage in the cramped confines of the tunnel, and went to work.  
"Here I am, all you pyschobitches out there! Come and get me if you can!" He bellowed as he burst onto the last place he was shot at from. He immediately unloaded both barrels of his shotgun into the hole, and threw himself into the fray. He connected solidly with a warm, furry body, and struggled fiercely with it until he realized that it wasn't fighting back. Dante froze, suspecting a new trap of some kind. When nothing happened for fifteen whole minutes, he reassessed his position. The fact that the body was furry and had obviously female proportions showed that the inert form was, or at least a dummy of, Fara, Katt, or Freya. Dante knew for a fact that all three killers could take a shotgun blast and a mere tackle without blacking out. He felt for a pulse, and found a strong and healthy one coursing through the wrist. He felt the facial features, and found that they were canine in nature. Unless another uninvited guest had invaded his Castle, he was lying on none other than Fara Pheonix. As if the inanimate body was coated in holy water, Dante sprang off before she came around.  
Dante dashed off while the dashin' was good, and only stopped to rest when he realized he was completely lost. He paused for breath and tried to puzzle out Fara's comatose state. After much unsuccessful deliberating, he decided to go back and see if there were any clues he had missed in his headlong flight from the scene. When he turned around and started off, he had only to go a small distance before he noticed unusual scrapes on the wall and deep footprints in the soft floor. He stared at them quizzically as he made his way back down the tunnel, and then finally realized that they were the markings of his jaunt. No wonder the girls always found it so easy to track him. He made a mental note to be more careful in the future, but before the mental memo could be filed away, he had reached his destination, and it was forgotten (slow mind processes). He studied the small room and discovered that Fara had apparently come around and moved off. He also found sneaker footprints in a direct line from one entrance of the room to Fara's previous bed, then in a second line out another exit.  
'Now, hold on a minute. Who in the Castle wears sneakers?' Dante thought. 'Zidane wears thief boots, I wear Manly Men brand knee-high boots, Squall wears Cool Dudes shoes, Cloud wears standard issue military boots, Barret wears homemade clodhoppers, Auron wears custom-made broughans, Cid wears rocket man footwear, and Fox wears metallic boots.' Dante thought some more. And then more. Then a lot more. Finally, just before he'd been thinking so long as to qualify in the 'helluva lot more' rank, he snapped his fingers and grinned evilly. Crash wore sneakers. Big, red ones in fact. Dante sniggered to himself for at least five minutes there, not paying the least attention to the world about him. If a hunter had come upon him then, he would have been tackled to the ground and hogtied like the farm animal the name implies. But, none of that mattered at the moment to him, as he was for too preoccupied thinking about the girl's predicament.  
  
"Damn!" Squall exclaimed as a grenade went off not ten feet from his position. The girls' aim was getting too close for comfort. Bullets cut the air around him as he fought to hold his position, but it was a losing battle. Barret had already sacrificed himself so that Squall and the rest might escape, but he was overrun in a matter of oh, say, half a minute tops. Just before Squall was about to desert his post in the interest of self-preservation, Auron appeared at his side, using his monstrous blade as a shield of sorts and delivered some news.  
"I hope you weren't planning on running, Squall. For the simple reason that there is no longer anywhere to run to. All that's left is maybe fifty more feet of tunnel, then we're stray cats in the middle of a rottweiler dog show." Auron said cheerily.  
Squall stared a moment, and before he could say a word about Auron's less-than-appropriate attitude toward the mess they were in, Malon charged around the corner and bulled into Squall. Squall struggled fitfully as Auron attempted to drag Malon off him. Just then, Tidus dashed up.  
"For God's sake, Malon, get a room for Chrissakes!" he yelled, so as to be heard over the din.  
Malon paused her throttling of Squall for the scant seconds it took to glare hatefully at Tidus, and a few seconds of relative inactivity was all Auron needed to heave her bodily off of Squall and throw her back down the tunnel. She bounced twice, then hissed balefully and retreated back to the rest of the women.  
Squall sat up and massaged his throat. "Good one, Tidus. Remind me to thank you later, providing we all live through this. Let's get out of here before Malon decides break time is over."  
And with that bright statement, they retreated with all due haste to the end of the line, where Cloud was sitting up with his back to the wall. Cloud gazed at them mournfully. "They're close, aren't they? *cough* I'm sorry I got you all into this. I wish God would take pity on us and deliver a miracle of some sort. But, seeing as I haven't been inside any kind of church in all my life, it probably won't happen."  
Tidus, Squall, and Auron, being too exhausted to anything other than gasp heavily, did not respond. Presently, the sounds of the approaching enemy could be heard. The guys looked at each other a moment, then hit the dirt. The sounds stopped, and pleasant conversation, of the kind that people (or in this case, she-demons and banshees from hell) use when they are assured of the outcome of a given situation. In this example, it was the victors gloating before they had even won the fight.   
Suddenly, several screams were heard, along with gunshots. After twenty seconds of uproarious noise, all was abruptly and unnervingly silent as an Egyptian tomb. The men listened attentively with baited breath, but could discern no unnatural noise in the tunnels, which meant no noise at all.  
For several minutes, nothing happened. Then Cloud, startled almost to the point of soiling his drawers, exclaimed, "Crash?!?!?" Naturally this display drew the attention of the others with record-setting alacrity.   
"Yeah, it me. What about it?" Crash asked carefully.  
"How did you......? Never mind. Let's just beat it before we lose our chance." Tidus said.  
And so it was that the guys evaded another sticky situation, with not a little help from Crash. On their way out of the tunnels, they collected Dante and Barret. Dante was still sniggering uncontrollably to himself, and when he saw them with Crash in tow, he burst out laughing. They shrugged his obvious amusement at them off, and proceeded out of the tunnels. At the tunnel mouth, every one patted everyone else on the back and went their own ways. For most, their route would inevitably lead to the in-home bar for rather obvious reasons. As Cloud, who had already been seen to by Kimahri, was staggering off to in a direct line to the bar, Crash tapped him on the back.  
Cloud turned wearily around. "What is it, Crash?"  
"Kimahri mentioned something about getting paid money in ridiculous amounts if I saved you."  
"Did he? Well, here's your pay. See you later, buddy." Cloud said as he handed Crash a penny and slumped off. Crash was left staring at a next-to-worthless copper coin, stupefied at this surprising turn of events. Then his mind recalled exactly what Kimahri had said. 'Getting paid money in ridiculous amounts.' Crash had made the dangerous assumption then that 'ridiculous amounts' meant 'a butt-load of cold, hard cash.' But, as it happened, he was paid all of one whole cent. When Crash went over his weekly thinking allowance and deliberated some more, he found that one measly penny was a pretty ridiculous amount. Satisfied with his newfound revelation, he strutted proudly off, flipping the penny up and down in the air. 


	7. A New Threat

7.A New Threat  
(What a blatant, overused cliché....)  
  
Fox's eyes snapped open. He saw that it was a brand new day. Early dawn light was just beginning to show through his window. He looked quickly at his calendar, which had one specific date out of the rest circled prominently with bright red permanent marker, and grinned hugely to himself as he thought of the coming day's prospects. He threw the covers off, leaped out of bed, and squirmed into his clothes as fast as he could manage without dislocating an arm or leg. Upon completing that task, he dashed to his bathroom and brushed his teeth with unusual vigor, drawing a small bit of blood in the process. Clearly, Fox was happier than he had any right to be, living in the Castle and all. When his teeth were brushed and polished to a mirror-quality shine, he combed out his face and head, and, carelessly tossing his comb somewhere behind him, walked briskly to his bedroom door. You could almost see it cringe slightly as he neared. He flung the door open and stood in the doorway.  
"Hello, world! Damn, today's a beautiful day to be alive!" he called brightly to no one in particular. A Blade, caught up to its waist in one of Dante's patented 'rat' traps, which, unsurprisingly, were the only rat traps in the world large and powerful enough to hold an elephant. The poor, doomed Blade looked dumbfoudedly at Fox as he strutted off, whistling merrily to himself to the tune of 'Zipp-A-Dee-Doo-Da.' This was more evidence that Fox was unaccountably joyous this fine, fine morning. Meanwhile, the Blade bled to death, it's last thoughts being "What in the hell could he be so slap-happy about?" Then, unceremoniously, it died a horrible death, still trapped in the elepha--sorry, rat trap.  
Fox came to a small set of steps in path. He was up the stairs, one, two, three! He rounded the next corner and marched quickly to a kitchen doorway that had promising smells emanating from it. Just as he was about to enter, a marionette (henceforth to be known as 'puppets') doing its chores innocently happened to bump him slightly. Fox happily turned and blew a leg off with his blaster. Even the blaster seemed unnervingly happy on this particular day, as it mercifully took the leg cleanly off, with no splinters or anything else hanging off the bloody stump. Satisfied that he had meted out sufficient punishment on the wretched puppet, Fox turned cheerily back to the kitchen, where Link was gaily scrambling eggs for everyone in the Castle, Garnet was staring at him weirdly, Dante was clapping heartily, and Fara was eating breakfast, looking as if she was ready for an excursion into the outside world. In fact, she was going shopping today. Leaving the puppet squirming on the floor, Fox entered the kitchen and seated himself at the breakfast table, greeting everyone in the room with a hearty "Wassup!"  
"Yo!" Link called, "Want some eggs?"  
"That would be great, just great, Link." Fox replied, "And how are you today, Dante?"  
"I was good, but since I saw that merciless display of heartless cruelty, now I'm simply super."  
"Happy to be of service. How about sliding me that pitcher of orange juice, please, my good man?"  
"Sure thing, you sadistic woodland mammal you."  
As Fox was pouring himself a tall, cool glass of orange goodness, a cry was heard in the hall outside.  
"Oh, for God's sake, people! When you start something like this, make an effort to remember to finish it!" This indignant statement was followed by a gunshot, then Squall sauntered into the room. "I saw the blaster burns on that unfortunate puppet, Fox. The least you could have done was put it out of our misery."  
"It bumped my arm, man! You expect me to just let that kind serious offence slide? What would that be telling all the other puppets in the Castle? It would be telling them it was okay to slam themselves against anyone at all! Especially me!" Fox said brightly in his defense. He drew Squall close to whisper in his ear, "Get a look at Fara, will you? Tell me what she's wearing."  
Squall glanced at Fara briefly, then did a double-take. His face immediately split into a wide smile, and he himself broke into song, singing 'Ding, Dong, The Witch Is Dead' in a voice as clear and ringing as a bell.  
Fox nodded satisfactorily. "I thought so."  
Link slid Fox's eggs down the highly waxed countertop with no more than a "Heads up, Fox!" As the platter of cooked chicken embryos skidded by him at speeds exceeding 10mph, Fox reached out and snagged it lightly in one hand.  
"Thanks, Link!" Fox shouted. As he was about to apply himself to his breakfast, he noticed that he had no utensils. Before he could even call for some from Link, a fork and knife skittered by at 15mph and thudded into the foot-thick balsa-wood block at the end of the bar. Sighing, Fox reached over and claimed them before some other parasitic 'friend' got to them first. As he started his meal, Fara pushed her plate back and stood up, brushing off her pants.  
"Well, I'm off to the mall. See you all tomorrow, maybe the day after that." she said and walked out. Fox, and every other guy in the Castle, listened carefully to her fading footsteps, the jingling of jet keys, and the slamming of the garage door. They dared not celebrate until they were certain that her jet engine had roared from hearing range.   
Then the Castle exploded with cheers and whistles as every Soldier in the Castle gathered hidden party supplies and headed for the single largest room in the entire Castle. When they arrived, Crash flipped on the lights, and they set their party favors down and began removing the white sheets from furniture, stereos, movie-theater sized TV screens, DVD players and stacks of painstakingly arranged DVDs, party lights, and disco balls. When all the sheets were carefully folded in one corner of the room, the tables were laid out and set, the TVs were dusted off and turned on ("She lives! SHE LIVES! AHAHAHAHAHAAA!" from Cid), and generally all was made ready for the coming bash in celebration of Fara's absence. When the last bowls of chips and dip were laid out, Dante assembled everyone in a line in front of the door.  
Dante said, "Now, men, this is truly an event worth celebrating. Fara is gone, and as such we can make as many cruel jokes as we want, with her as the unwitting butt! I now pronounce this party......." A dramatic pause, ".....OPEN!"  
The roar of assent was clearly audible throughout the whole Castle. The details of the blowout will not be listed. The only things worth mentioning about it was that a food fight of colossal proportions was begun when dastardly Cid threw a cup of punch at Fox and ducked under the table, where he caused no end of mischief launching edible missiles at anyone and everyone who came within range. He was eventually pulled kicking and screaming out from under the table and a whole full bowl of punch was broken over his head, showering him with fruity beverage and sharp glass. The other thing was Fox's apparently newly acquired break-dancing skills, which he had been perfecting under Dante's watchful eye. Just as soon as there was barely room enough for a mouse to lie down on the dance floor, Fox hustled in and proceeded to clear himself some space by randomly knocking people around until the dance floor was reluctantly cleared of everyone else but him. Zidane trained a giant spotlight on Fox from the rafters. Fox stood in the middle of the floor for a moment, then launched into such a reel of spinning, flipping, kicking, and tying himself in grotesque knots that even Dante, the self-proclaimed 'King of Cooldom,' was forced to admit that it was good. For everyone else watching, it was very good.  
  
Hours later, the newly named Party Room was devoid of sentinent life. There were some puppets cleaning the volumous amounts of trash up and the scavenging Blade here and there, but they don't count, for obvious reasons. The halls outside, however, were another matter entirely. As per usual after a party of such a size, the boys were stumbling drunkenly through all the various known halls of Mallet Castle searching for all their respective rooms, supporting each other by lending a shoulder whenever the thought occurred to them to do so. Given their present state of mind, brought on by amounts of Vanilla Coke and chips that were so massive as to be life threatening, I'm sure all of you readers out there reading this (assuming of course, that you can indeed read English comprehensively) can see just how futile this search was. Most would probably end up dropping in the halls, snoring uproariously the millisecond their heads hit the ground. For poor Fox, this particular side effect of succumbing to the temptations of too much caffeine was doubled by being shaken, not stirred, with making a pretzel out of his body several times in a row. In short, he could barely walk, and he was bleary eyed.  
The girls watched from afar, pitying the poor, luckless fools. Especially Fox.  
"You know, it's a sad, sad sight. You think we should put them to bed?" Katt asked.  
"Nah, let 'em rot. They brought it on themselves." *hic* Trish was still a bit tipsy. The girls too had had a small social gathering to celebrate Fara's departure, and had spent the time talking quietly among themselves, playing board games, reading whatever was handy, and watching the boys' antics in the Party Room via hidden cameras stationed throughout the room. The girls had passed two fancy glass bottles of Vanilla Coke and some snack crackers around, but that was it. Trish had delved deeply into both bottles, needless to say. If you were to confront her on the matter, she would deny everything, then bash your head in for even suspecting her of such a thing. The truth of the matter was, however, that she loved Vanilla Coke just as much as Dante did, and, also like Dante, she took every opportunity she could get to swill some down. But, whereas Dante could almost constantly be found with a can or two of caffeinated vanilla on his person, Trish only drank it when she found it in, say, the fridge, or out on the bar, after she had disinfected it.   
"Don't the rest of you think that Fox's dancing was great? I never knew he had it in him." Malon said, slightly awed.  
"Yeah, it was great. Where do you think he learned how to dance like that?" Tifa asked.  
*bbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrAAAAAAAAAPPP!* "Man! Excuse me. As to Fox's mad dance skillz, Dante would be the man to point your finger at. Preferably the middle one." Trish answered.  
"You're excused, Trish." poor innocent Rinoa said, "But what would be the significance of pointing your middle finger at someone?"  
"I see Squall has yet to have The Talk with Rinoa." Aeris said, "If he had, she wouldn't have made that sickeningly innocent remark just now. But that's okay, Rinoa. We like you sickeningly innocent."  
"What's the talk?"  
"The Talk --in capital letters, dearie-- is something that cannot be explained by anyone but a greatly trusted friend. In your case, that would be Squall."  
"Oh, of course. I trust Squall implicitly. With my life, even."  
"Yes, yes, we know. If you want to know the reason one would extend their middle finger at any given person, you must have The Talk with Squall."  
"I'll ask him about it when he's sober. Speaking of the opposite of being drunk off your ass, how do you think the boys manage to get falling-down drunk on Vanilla Coke?"  
"Well, to help you understand, let's use the erstwhile Dante as an example. When he drinks enough Vanilla Coke, he gets hyperactive due to all the excess caffeine in his system. That's called a caffeine rush. When the caffeine rush wears off, a splitting headache is left as a testament to the powers of God. If we had left all the actual beer in Dante's beer cellar alone, Dante would probably be dead now."  
"But he's a devil!"  
"I realize that in it's entirety. You must also understand that the effects of alcohol are far worse than those of caffeine. In place of a splitting headache, for example, Dante would be unable to see or hear. Permanently. For all the other guys, the effects would be just as bad, if not worse. And that is why we spent and spend millions of dollars on Vanilla Cokes. We don't want the guys to die."  
Rinoa blinked several times, taking all this new information in. When the point finally got across that alcohol could even kill Squall of all people, she gave a small, "Oh."  
"Yep. Part of our plan is to wean them off alcohol entirely. Fara's trip to the mall included visiting a package store in order to purchase some real liquor. If all works out as it should, the guys will despise the real deal's taste and will renounce it forever. Then, then, and only then can we tell them that they've been drinking Vanilla Cokes the whole time. And watch your language, hon. You cannot legally cuss until you've had The Talk. Jeez, children today."  
  
Meanwhile, in other unexplored parts of the Castle, dark plans were afoot. Unheard of monsters roamed these halls, and cockroaches the size of a skateboard scratched between the walls. An unhealthy place, to say the least. When boy and girl expansion of territory began to take place, these filthy places would be cleaned up considerably. But for now, a lone man made his way through the maze of branching corridors and empty rooms, thinking to himself that Hell's interior decorator must have taken a turn down insanity lane. When he had first begun to fight his way through the moon bases and even Hell itself, the environment had steadily become more and more disturbing. Where on the moon bases the walls had been made of stainless steel and the floor felt steady under your boots, in Hell the walls were of flesh and the floor felt as if it would shift from under you in a moment. But this place topped it all. The decor seemed to generally be like the inside of a castle, but as he had never actually been inside a castle, he couldn't say for sure. There were lavish carpets on the cut-stone floor, and prominent hangings and paintings lined the walls. All in all, it was highly disturbing. To say the least. And that wasn't counting the cockroaches. Huge, ugly, disgusting things. Deep down, this particular individual had a deep-rooted fear of cockroaches, probably stemming from some traumatic childhood experience. He was tempted to put a round in every one he saw, but his common sense told him that that would be a pointless exercise in idiocy. There were far too many too possibly kill them all, and everyone knows that for every one you kill, three more pop up in its place. So he didn't shoot any. Well alright, maybe just a couple.........hundred.  
As he was stomping another semi-innocent roach out of existence, he heard muffled gruntings and other noises, and, for lack of anything better to do, he followed them to their source. After five minutes of searching, he came suddenly upon a doorway, and had to jump aside to avoid being seen. He cautiously poked his head around the corner, and beheld several brown, leathery-skinned monsters with white spikes poking out of their hides at random points on their grotesque bodies. They were grunting among themselves in what was a dialect no doubt perfectly understandable to members of that particular species, but was all gibberish to the space marine. Then he remembered the brand new all-purpose translator that he had had implanted in his helmet for a paltry $999.99. "Well, baby, now it's time to earn your keep." he thought as he flipped it on. The Imp's conversation was suddenly comprehensible, but with an accent not to be heard anywhere on Earth.  
"So, has the Master said anything further about the takeover of this island?" Imp One asked.  
"If he had, we would be storming the residents now, instead of sitting here rotting like Bill over there." Imp Two answered, motioning to a zombie standing in a corner all by himself, clutching a rifle to him like it was the only reason for his existence.   
"I, for one, can wait to fight it out with those people living here. Have you seen the white-haired one in the big, red trenchcoat shoot? He can plug a beer can off a table from a hundred feet with his pistols!" Imp Three said fearfully.  
"Ah, whadda you know? You're a coward. Ever since you saw that marine, you've been scared of anything that has anything to do with guns or chainsaws." Imp One sneered.  
"You didn't see what he did to them though. He revved up his chainsaw, and, oh it's just to horrible to imagine....." Imp Three shuddered, ".......You would have had to have been there to understand my fear..."  
"You're such a ninnyhammer. That marine hasn't been seen since the last time that one idiot demon left a portal to Hell open, and he found it. True, the destruction he caused cannot be measured be any mortal being, but he hasn't been heard of since. For all we know, some lucky demon may have finally taken him down in a hot pool of his own blood. If he has, I wish I could be there to drink it." Imp Two stated.  
"We all know that that has about as much chance of happening as Osama bin Laden has of being alive right now." Imp Three said.  
"Speaking of the latest incarnation of the King of Fools, I heard someone say that......"   
Doom decided that it was time for action. If what he had just heard was to be believed, he was not actually in Hell, despite all appearances. And if he wasn't in Hell, he was on Earth. And that meant those Imps in there were trespassing on his turf. He pulled out his chainsaw and cranked it up. Those new key-started chainsaws were really something.  
Upon the first noise that the chainsaw made, all three Imps and Bill the zombie turned to see Doom standing in the doorway, framed ominously by a flickering torch just across the hall. Imp Three shrieked shrilly and frantically searched for another exit from the room-turned-deathtrap. There were none. When Doom got a good look at Imp Three, he snickered nastily.  
"Oh, I remember you. You're the one that got away that one time in Hell. How've you been doing with one arm and one eye, Stumpy?" Doom grated. He would have snarled, but his throat was too dry. He hadn't seen clean water for days.  
Stumpy whimpered miserably. Pity would have coursed through Doom, but, after seeing what demons such as these did to prisoners taken alive, he was inured to that particular human weakness. Bill raised his rifle to his shoulder to fire, but Doom was much faster than some depilated formerly human corpse and dashed across the room, chainsaw revved to the max and poised for action. What followed need not be examined too greatly. Suffice to say that none escaped from the room.  
After it was over, Doom stood there, breathing heavily and admiring the new red color scheme on the walls that he had caused. He then left the room, satisfied that he had ridded the world of a few more scumbags.  
  
Fox lay on the hallside bench, eyes screwed shut and an arm over his face. All he could think about at the moment was how good a couple of Aleve gelcaps would be right now. With water. Cold water, with cold ice cubes in it. And an ice pack wouldn't go unappreciated, either. A big ice pack. And a soft bed. That would be a good thing to have now, if he could stand to get up and look for his room. Yeah, that was it. He needed two Aleve gelcaps, a tall, cold glass of water with large cold ice cubes in it, a big ice pack, and a nice, fluffy bed. But, seeing as all the other guys had dropped him off here and left him, not only did he have no idea where he was, but also the odds of someone coming around and helping him to his room were pretty slim. Just as he was about to drift off into merciful slumber, footsteps sounded nearby. He took his arm from over his eyes and squinted up to a pink-furred face looking kindly at him. It must be Katt, he told himself. She would help him. He just knew she would. She had to, he thought desperately.  
"Come on, pretzel boy. Time for bed." Katt said as she pulled him off the bench and stood him up. He almost fell down again. "Damn, boy, how much did you drink? You should watch it in the future." Katt tried again, succeeding this time. She threw one arm over her shoulder and started walking off. Fox had two options:   
A-He could follow her and possibly make it to his room before he conked out, or  
B-He could choose not to follow her and fall out on the floor, knocking himself out in the process, and suffering the indignity of having a girl carry him to his room.  
Needless to say, he went with option A. (Hehe....that rhymed...) On their way to Fox's room (at least that's what Fox thought), they ran across Dante in the hall. Literally, they walked on him as they passed. He didn't even grunt, just snorted like an African game animal and rolled over, scratching his gut. Next was Auron, who was walking brightly down the hall.  
"Morning, you two. Having a good day?" he asked cheerfully.  
As Katt said something witty in reply (read--author couldn't be arsed to think of something for her to say), Fox thought to himself, "Damn him. He drank just as much as the rest of us, and look at him now. Bright and cheery as lark on a sunny day. Being a ghost has its advantages though, I guess...."  
They did not see anyone else for the rest of their trip. When Katt did finally open a door and lead Fox inside, he didn't bother to see whose door it was. Instead he gave a muffled cry of delight and stumbled the last few steps to the bed, throwing himself on it and falling asleep as soon as his head hit the oaken headboard. In the millisecond before he left the conscious realm, he thought, "But my bed doesn't have a headboard......" Then he was snoring.  
Katt, after worriedly checking her headboard and then Fox for damage, decided to see just how far out of it he really was. She filled a five-gallon bucket with ice-cold water and dashed it over his head. Fox did nothing more than smile contentedly in his sleep and roll over. Katt smiled semi-evilly, and left Fox there to his rest. But not before she locked her door behind her from the outside.  
  
Doom was having one bitch of a day. Of course, most of his days were bitches, but this one stood out from the rest. It had started well enough, what with his finding the long lost Stumpy and finishing what he had started with him months ago. Then it had all went straight down the turd flusher. A short while after finishing his slaughter of Stumpy and his friends, he had encountered another enemy group. This one had been moderately larger than Stumpy's. After taking care of that group, he almost immediately came upon another group large enough to fill up an auditorium. Then the formerly good day had become a cast-iron, maliciously malignant crapper of a day for Doom. It seemed that finally, he would be brought down. But if he was going to go, he didn't plan on leaving very many demons behind to tell the awful tale. It makes no sense to die with full bandoliers, after all. And Doom was a solid rock of good sense. His chaingun rattled out rounds at the speedy clip of 500 rounds per minute. Which says wonders about the mutilation he was effecting on his foes, which were cut down in the stream of hot bullets, one by one. When it clicked empty, Doom smoothly threw the smoking chaingun aside and brought his shotgun to bear, throwing up a veritable wall of lead with each buckshot-packed shell. A lucky Imp gashed his arm with a forward claw-sweep, but did not live long enough to even draw back its arm for another blow. Doom gritted his teeth in an effort to shut out the pain lancing through his arm, and kept on fighting.  
Then Dante, Squall, and Auron appeared in the room on the far side. One look at the packed mass of monsters across the room, punctuated by repeated shotgun blasts, was all it took for all three to realize that someone was in deep shit. Not bothering to waste time by thinking at all, the three warriors ran headlong into the rear of the monster horde, weapons drawn. Who was the first to die in that charge, who was the last? (Homeric reference, for all you Iliad and Odyssey readers out there.) The first was a zombie in the very back of the crowd named Clinton, trying mindlessly to get at Doom. Auron cut him in half with a sweeping backhand swipe. The last was a Demon whose thick skull was cleaved cleanly in two by an overhead chop from Squall. That's not to say that Dante didn't help any. Swords are for killing, after all, are they not?  
After the fracas was finished, the four victors stood there, panting hard. Doom kept his shotgun trained on the other three, wary of deception. Dante looked quizzically at him a moment, then suddenly his attitude could restrain itself no longer.  
"Yeah, baby!" Dante yelled out while twirling his pistols in his hands, tossing and flipping them all over the place before he finally holstered them neatly somewhere under his trenchcoat. "We OWNED their asses, boys! Of course, if it hadn't been for me, you all would have lost miserably."  
"Why, you bigheaded jackass. Me and Auron killed just as many each as you did, if not more." Squall said.  
"Yeah, devil boy. You were by no means whatsoever the deciding factor in that fight. In fact, you were just an extra." Auron laughed.  
"Extra? EXTRA?! You dare have the audacity to dub me an EXTRA? You're just jealous of my style and dashing good looks, as you two are as ugly as sin." Dante responded indignantly.   
"Oh, really?" Squall asked. "Well, lets just see what the mirror says." Squall then dragged Dante to the one and only mirror that had not been shattered in the firefight. "Now, when the mirror sees me, it says, 'Gee, what a smart, good looking guy that is.' When it sees you, it says 'Whoa! What an ugly, stupid assed freak that is!'"  
"Do you wanna settle this like real men do? Because I could take you in a fight any day of the week."  
"Now now, boys, we don't want to give our guest the wrong impression about ourselves the first time he meets us. His grip on that shotgun has been tightening the whole time you babies have been squabbling. Now form up nice and even like right here in front of me." Auron commanded. Upon being ignored, he shouted, "You! Assholes! In front of me! Now!"  
They formed up. Auron joined them in line, and they all gazed expectantly at Doom. After five minutes of complete silence, Doom shifted slightly, not taking his aim off the three other men. Dante's attention began to wander. He looked boredly about the room, then reached inside his trenchcoat for a Coke. He probably never knew how close he came to a new hole in his chest with that move. Doom watched longingly as Dante downed his Coke with evident relish, savoring every swallow, smacking his lips every two seconds. Doom was thirsty, had been for days, and seeing this display of boundless delight in liquid sustenance made him even thirstier. Dante, finishing his bottle of Coke, threw it away, and it crashed on the floor with a light tinkling sound due to the distance it had been thrown.  
"I should have known better than to give you glass bottles, Dante. The temptation of breaking glass is just too much for you, isn't it?" Squall sighed.  
"Yup." Dante replied simply as he drew forth another bottle from his trenchcoat, again coming a whisker's breadth from obtaining a new hole in his upper torso.   
This time it was just too much for Doom to bear. Swallowing his pride, he gratingly asked, "Could you toss me some of that? I haven't encountered clean water for days."  
Dante started, evidently surprised that Doom possessed the ability to speak. He got over it quickly, though. "Sure. I'm going to come over there and hand it to you now, so don't plug me with that gun, okay?"  
Doom hesitated a moment, then slowly lowered his shotgun. Dante walked slowly over and handed the Coke to Doom, then backed slowly away. After watching Dante suspiciously for a minute (literally), Doom slung his shotgun over his shoulder on his gunstrap and looked about for something to open his new drink. When he saw that one Imp was still barely alive, he marched over and sat it up against the wall. "Stick out your lower jaw." Doom commanded. The Imp, fearing for its life, did so. Doom then hooked the aluminum lid of the bottle on one of the Imp's teeth and banged it smartly downward with his fist. This move had the double effect of opening Doom's Vanilla Coke and dislocating the Imp's lower jaw.   
As the first tears of pain started to leak out of it's eyes, Doom drew his pistol and put it to the hapless creature's head. He said, "Thank you for your cooperation." And then he blew it back to Hell.  
Dante stood slack-jawed for a moment, possibly two, then burst into wildly approving cheers, whistles, and applause. After gulping the whole bottle full of Coke down, it was Doom's turn to look at Dante. When Dante's obvious amusement at the dead Imp's fate failed to subside, he decided that if he was to get any sense out of these people, he was going to have to talk to someone with an IQ count over the freezing point. He turned to Auron. "He's easily amused, isn't he?" Doom asked.  
"I'm afraid so. Anything from cutting an electric wire to opening a door right in front of a running person is highly amusing to him." Auron responded.  
Doom looked at Dante again, and saw that he was standing over the Imp's body, pointing and laughing fit to bust. Doom shook his head and turned his attention back to more important matters. "Where's the nearest food depot?" He asked of Squall.  
"Depot? You're a military type, aren't you? If you mean the nearest kitchen, it's a ways back behind us. We were exploring the Castle's unknown depths and ran across you. Good fighting by the way." Squall answered.  
"The way you asked that question just now, ah...." Auron said.  
"Doom."  
"...Doom, the way you just asked that question just now, you sounded as if you knew beforehand that we would know where it was. How did you guess that we knew?"  
"I've never known a warrior of any type to be ignorant for any length of time of where the nearest larder is."  
By this time, the comic appeal of a dead and soon-to-be rotting body had deteriorated somewhat for Dante. Though it was still funny to remember exactly how it had died, the dead Imp no longer afforded any real laughs for him anymore. And so, predictably, his attention wandered again. He listened in on the conversation between Doom, Squall, and Auron for a short while, but quickly grew disinterested with that as well. His boredom level reached new unheard of heights before he remembered the single unbroken mirror on the wall. Upon finding that it was still there and in one piece, he strutted over and started posing like the world was going to end tomorrow, and he had to see himself one last time in the reflective surface of the mirror.   
"Oh yeah, baby. Who's the man? Uh-huh, that's right, me. Get a load of these muscles. I know thousands of monsters who would sell their souls to the devil himself for these pecs. Of course, they've already sold their souls to Mundus, and I'M the devil himself, so they have nothing to pay me with, and I wouldn't sell my glorious muscles, anyway. So too bad, you stupid monsters. I'm so bad, yeah, and...."   
All the while, Doom had been valiantly attempting to concentrate on Squall and Auron's voices over the droning of Dante's voice, but the all-reaching din was getting on his nerves. Finally, he said, "Excuse me just one moment, will you." It was not a question. Doom walked over to where Dante was flexing his arm muscles and stood there watching him, waiting for Dante to notice him. Now, if Doom had lived in the Castle as long as, say, Trish, he would have known that once Dante caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, only a smack upside the head could bring him out of his daze. When it finally became evident to Doom that Dante was even more single-minded than he had first believed, he commanded in his most polite voice, "Do you think that you could cease your endless babbling for a while? It is just beginning to get on my nerves. Just a little." It came out as a gruff threat to Dante.  
"Well, if it's only just beginning to bother you, I've got a little more time to admire myself before you get well an truly pissed, and then we can fight and I will win, and then I will go back to admiring myself in the mirror again, without you there to interrupt." Dante stated matter-of-factly.   
"Is that so?" Doom asked, reverting back to his usual growl. "Because I am of the opinion that you are not the most pleasant thing in the universe to set your eyes on. In short, so that you can understand, you are the ugliest, most obscene excuse for a person I have ever seen."   
"Oh, I bet you say that to all of your competitors."  
"Smart ass too, apparently. Well, I've dealt with 'people' worse than you will ever hope to be, so don't get on my bad side. Are we all straight here, kid?"  
"Well, no actually. You see, there's this 'guy' here named Kuja, and he dresses like a... well frankly he dresses like a female stripper."  
"I've seen 'men' dressed like... that... before. Killed 'em too. What makes this one so special?"  
"This one takes cross-dressing to new, perverted levels. So no, technically we're not all straight here."  
"Why does he even live here? He should have been killed long ago if he is still alive."  
"Because he just won't die, man! We've killed him in so many different ways, there's way too many to count. But he just refuses to die. Every time, the next day he pops back up, trying to find another piece of slime like him, I guess."  
"I see my services are required. Don't worry, if I can't kill him in thirty days, no one can. Also, you'll get half your money back if he still breathes at the end of thirty days."  
"I'm paying for these services? Well, we've tried everything else...." Dante handed over $150.00.  
Squall and Auron stared at the two business partners for the duration of their conversation. When Dante had drawn up the contract, and Doom had pocketed it, Squall and Auron looked at each other. They saw in the other's face the exact feeling of mutual confusion over how a threatening exchange of taunts between Doom and Dante had turned so rapidly into a new hope to rid the Castle of the cross-dressing son-of-a-bitch Kuja. What a world.  
"Now, about that kitchen..." Doom said turning back to Squall.  
  
Fox's eyes cracked open a millimeter, then snapped quickly shut again when the faintest bit of light found its way in. He groaned and shifted in the bed slightly. He was tucked in nice and tight. A little too tight to move very much at all in his present condition. He also found that all of his earlier wishes had come true. There was a bottle of Aleve and a tall, cool glass of water with ice in it on the nightstand by the bed. There was a large, extra cold ice pack on his head. And, most importantly, he was in a nice, big, fluffy bed. He swore to himself that he would never abuse his dancing talents and caffeine at the same time ever again. Sure it was cool at the time, but the aftereffects just weren't worth the rush. He sighed and relaxed in order to lose himself in the softness of the bed and pillows, which were nestled comfortably against the oaken headboard...   
It took a few minutes, but it finally got through. Fox jerked awaked again, which did nothing to alleviate his headache, and turned around as far as he could to see an average sized nondescript oak headboard. That the headboard was there at all was of no consequence, but the fact that Fox positively knew that his bed had no such headboard told him the obvious. He wasn't in his room. However, he also knew that he had commissioned Cid to get one on his bed, and the hopeful thought that he was in his room after all pranced happily about in his muddled head. Just to be sure, Fox looked around the room. What he saw immediately shot his happy thought down and trampled it into the ground.  
There was a half-open closet door to his right, with a bra hanging on the knob furthest away from him. That made him wince. Next, he saw a vanity table on the opposite wall from the bed he was in, with brushes, makeup, and other assorted beauty accessories. That made him cringe. Third, he noticed a teddy bear sitting on a desk, which was littered with papers, notes, and books. None of the guys, as far as he wanted to know, had a teddy bear that they publicly displayed for all to see. Sure, Dante probably had a childhood bear that he cuddled with every night, but Fox knew for a fact that Dante would never put it out in plain sight. It would look bad on his record if a cute little teddy bear were found somewhere in his room. Then Fox got a look at the bed itself. It had a blue blanket on it with small pink kittens parading around in rows. The pillowcases, sheets, and indeed the headboard that tipped him off in the first place had something regarding kittens on it somewhere.  
Fox sat there quietly for ten minutes, digesting all of this new information. He deduced that, first of all, he was in a girl's room. Second, he had been duped into getting there for some reason. Third, judging by all the kittens on the bed, it was Katt's bedroom. Fourth, and last, he was in deep horseshit.   
"I'm in deep horseshit. What am I going to do now?" Fox said wearily to himself. Usually, he would pay to be in Katt's room. But not now. Not in his current condition. He attempted to get up and stumble to the door, but only succeeded in tangling himself in the bedclothes until he couldn't move. When that got through to him, he began to struggle madly. Again, his intentions were to free himself, but instead he fell off the bed. From his undignified position on the floor, he could see the four cracks of light around the door. On the side with the doorknob, there were at least four places where the slim band of light was interrupted. After a minute or two (bear in mind, folks, Fox is still stoned here), Fox realized that those ominous interruptions of light could only be locks on the outside of the door.  
"Man... Dad said there'd be days like this. Mom said not till you're married, but that's beside the point." He spied a file on the floor near the vanity table. "Bingo." Fox squirmed over and grabbed the file in his teeth and, due to the unnatural angle his arm was turned at because of the sheets he was tangled in, easily transferred it to his paw. After twenty minutes of vigorous sawing, his right leg was free, again because of sheets turning it in a direction any leg is really not meant to turn. But, as anyone who has had the pleasure of playing Super Smash Brothers: Melee knows, Fox is a very nimble creature. His agility is second only to the conforming powers of air.   
Finally, he was completely free. It was only when he stood up and saw the mess on the floor that he realized that he had demolished Katt's bedcovers with a blunt nail file. He stared, disbelieving as to what he had done. He had committed the equivalent of hari-kari, suicide, and kamikaze all rolled into one overbearing burden of dismal fate. In the face of all this he could only think, 'Well, damn.'   
Then one of the door locks rattled and opened. That was enough to bring Fox out of his daze and galvanize him into action. He looked quickly about the room for a good place to hide, and finally settled on the closet. As he was heading that way, another lock was unbolted. He then thought that the first place Katt would look would be the closet when she discovered the mangled linens on the floor. In midstride he changed course 265 degrees to the right and dove under the bed. The third lock clicked. Fox's heart was in his throat, mainly due to the fact that all the recent exertion had caused a sudden and unwelcome bout of nausea. The fourth and final lock disengaged, and the door swung silently open.  
"Ah, I knew those locks that Zidane 'gave' me would come in handy one day. Now, to check on sleeping beauty... what the hell!?" came the pleasant ringing of Katt's rather pissed voice. "My custom-made sheets! My special issue pillowcases! My designer blanket! How did Fox... what's this? A nail file? He ripped them apart with a blunt nail file? Oh, the nerve of that audacious ne'er do well! But that's one of the reasons boys make such interesting playthings, I suppose. You have to constantly be alert to their inborn desire to destroy any and everything. Oh, well. He can't have gone far. He's in no shape to break locks after ripping my covers to dishrags. I'll just shut this..." the door slammed and latched from the inside.  
Fox, who had managed to sneak out into the hall, barely avoided getting his tail slammed in the door. As he was about to flee for his life, a genuinely original and inspired idea came to him through God, who pitied him greatly at the moment. God had seen many a man get caught by Katt. Starting sometime in the third grade, she began stalking boys through the school halls. At that time, it was only to scare the living crap out of them, but the extra lunch money and the occasional yellow puddle under the boys afterwards was a nice bonus, too. Her reign of terror only worsened in high school, where the average guy was apt to be carrying at least a couple of greenbacks on him at a time. Then came college. Her heinous tricks and traps became legendary for their ingenuity and aptness for the occasion. Among these was a pressure switch, which could easily be disguised as an average floor or wall tile that released the chemical agent that is routinely (and evilly) placed into Icees and ice cream that causes brain freeze, Freon-12. Katt designed her trap to spray this raw element of torture into the eyes, mouth, nose, and ears of the luckless jackass who had performed the deed that drew her unwanted attention. This barrage of brain freeze extract (Ice-Age Freeze: Just one prescribed dose and you'll be twitching on the floor!) was usually enough to literally lock up all brain processes until a paramedic could be arsed to show up and revive the victim. There was no immediate pain, but her sources assured her that those patients taken to the hospital as a direct result of her cold-hearted shenanigans could not move at all without excruciating pain. Even when they were deemed fit to go back out into the outside world, they were groggy and slow-witted for weeks afterward, which demonstrates the medical proficiency of the doctors in that area.  
Anyway, back to Fox and his daring idea. He could lock her in the room! He would have to be really quick, because once she realized that he wasn't in the bedroom, out she would come with a curse in her heart and a tranquilizer in her fist. That was a thought that Fox really didn't need at that particular moment. So he went to work, locking, bolting, and slamming the locks home on the doorframe. Not half a second after he had finished, the whole door shook violently. "Ha! See you later, Katt! I'm outta here!" Fox shouted behind him as he ran off down the hall. Before he had gone twenty feet, he ducked into a side room and puked all over a nearby rug, befouling the entire thing. It seemed he still wasn't in as good a shape as he had thought he was. After wiping his mouth, Fox resolutely stood up and proceeded at a much slower and measured pace down the hall, alert for any signs of pursuit. So alert was he, in fact, that he neglected to watch where he was going. By the time he thought he was clear, he was well and truly lost. Fox stopped, gazed blankly about him, and berated himself for being such a moron.  
"God, how stupid can a person get? I've allowed myself to become lost in such a way yer average hood would never do. I have stupidly and foolishly neglected to watch where I was going due to the fact that I was too wrapped up in listening for Katt barreling down the hall behind me. Damn, I'm such a moron."  
As Fox had been belittling himself, a steady background noise had become audible. It began as a faint thudding...  
Thud, thud, thud, thud...  
At the time, Fox had disregarded the sound as irrelevant and had continued to yell at himself. By the time he had finished with his self-loathing speech, the noise had increased to...  
Thud, thump, thud, thump...  
By now the noise had begun to get on Fox's nerves. Still, it was too far away to possibly affect him in any way at all, so he concentrated instead on finding out where in the hell he was.  
THUMP THUMP THUD STOMP CRASH BOOM!  
Now the cacophony of noise fully warranted Fox's attention. Whatever had the gall to go around making so much noise could not be very far away. Fox made a rough estimate of what he might expect to find as the source of this awful racket. Mundus? No, he's too thoroughly cowed to do something so bold with ten light-years of Dante. Phantom? Last Fox had heard, Phantom had buried himself in the center of the Earth. Griffon? Maybe. He was just a stupid bird, after all. Ganondorf? More likely than Griffon, but usually Link had Ganondorf under control by now if it was truly Ganon behind it all. While Fox had been plumbing the depths of his mind for a suitable baddie to pin the blame for this violation of the Noise Limit for Fools article, passed by Trish and Dante not too long ago, the said mind-numbing racket grew in its intensity.  
BAM BOOM CRASH THUD SCREECH CRUNCH THOOM  
The rhythmic pounding of the unholy chorus was beating inside Fox's head like a hippie beating a bongo. He could barely hear himself think over the din. He had to be close, because he could just discern the hiss of hydraulics between the explosions of deafening noise.  
Some of the most complex and important things in life are discovered in the simplest way imaginable. In Fox's case, he had only to turn a corner to find the cause of his newly developed hearing disorder.  
It was a spider. A frikkin' spider. That was Fox's first thought. Then the sheer size of the thing registered in his cloudy head. It was large enough to fill up a school gymnasium. To say the least. Then the fact that it was mostly mechanical fought its way through Fox's dysfunctional though processes. Fox stepped quickly back around the corner and shook his head. "Okay, lets get things straight here. I know I'm a little off today, and all this noise may be a symptom of one metric ton of Vanilla Cokes ingested in one hour. So I'm just going to step calmly back around that corner and see what there is to see." And he did.  
It was still there, and it was still huge. It was made up of a large brain-textured mountain of... brains... and a metal exoskeleton with eight hydraulic legs and a seemingly glass dome over the brain. Implanted in the exoskeleton just below its grotesque "face" were two big miniguns, both pointed at him. He had been noticed. Fox stood there dumbly and could only utter one thing in the face of the oversized, overtly hostile web spinner.  
For the second time that day, Fox said, "Oh. Damn." 


	8. The Mastermind

8.The Mastermind  
  
  
"If you threaten our nation, I will hunt you down. You cannot hide. There is nothing I cannot see or hear. There is no place my bullet cannot go. I will not stop until my job is done. THIS I SWEAR." -Tom Clancy  
  
  
  
"Ahhhhh, sweet nectar." Doom sighed as he opened up yet another coke with a ksshhh! of released air pressure. Just as he was about to chug it down, Dante snatched it away and swallowed it in one humongous gulp. Without breaking the measured stride Doom had set for himself, he drew his shotgun and clubbed Dante in the head at the temple, where the human skull is relatively thinner than everywhere else. Of course, that's for human skulls. Devil skulls are another matter entirely, and, if nothing else of worldly value, Dante had inherited Sparda's notoriously dense pate. So, instead of a nearly fatal skull-fracturing strike, all Doom achieved with that move was to give Dante a mild headache.  
"What did you do that for, man? All I did was drink a coke!" Dante exclaimed, rubbing his left temple tenderly.  
"You didn't drink just any coke, though. You drank my coke." Doom replied stonily.   
"Hey, it came from my trenchcoat, didn't it? That means it was mine to begin with."  
"You gave up all rights to that carbonated beverage the second it left your coat."  
"I never gave you that drink!"  
"You don't have to give someone something for it to leave your possession."  
"Why you..."  
"What? What am I?"  
"Tch! Fine, go ahead and steal my drinks! See if I care! I have others."  
"Good. I will be expecting a regular supply of these delicacies."  
Before Dante could lash out with an indignant reply, Squall asked, "So you plan on staying here, then?"  
"I don't see any reason not to. There seems to be plenty of Hell spawn here to fight, certain members of present company included."  
Auron and Squall smirked and glanced at Dante, who seemed to have missed the gist of the conversation completely. He was too busy glowering at Doom and locking his trenchcoat fridge to concentrate on much of anything else.  
"Well, I'm sure we have an extra room for you. Once you get settled in, we can introduce you to the rest of the gang." Auron said.  
Then Dante got it. "Hey! He's not staying here is he? Please tell me he's not. Just look at him. He's looks like trouble with a capital T."  
For the sake of argument, Squall and Auron looked Doom over. They saw a battered, violent looking space marine sporting formerly green combat fatigues, military boots, and a helmet that looked as if it had been manufactured by the Starship Troopers producers. The green fatigues were no longer new, and had seen more combat and fighting than any other super hero costume can ever hope to witness. Doom's battle vest bore many scars of past battles, aberrations ranging from claw and teeth marks to scorched and semi-melted sections that practically screamed of fire. And that was to say nothing of the bullet holes. They peppered the front and back of his armor like, well, pepper. Almost every stitch of clothing on Doom was reddened somewhat by blood, both that of his enemies and his own. His helmet was scratched and scuffed, and the mirror finish on the visor was no longer quite a mirror. It was more like a cracked slate gray wall blocking anyone from seeing Doom's face. The only things that looked in remotely good condition on Doom were his weapons, but that was taken for granted. No self-respecting battle hardened warrior ever lets his tools of the trade rust and deteriorate, lest Murphy's Law of Chance kick in at a most inopportune moment. Due to the fact that Doom had not given them any information regarding himself or his past, Squall and Auron could not determine his mental health, but it looked reasonably good. If you ignored the obvious lust for strife and bloodshed, that is. But that was pretty normal, considering where they lived and the people that lived there.  
"He seems about as troublesome as you, Dante. No more, no less." Auron said.  
"Can we handle another Dante, Auron?" Squall asked.  
"Hey, now! What's that supposed to mean? I'm ten times more cultured and intelligent than that buffoon will ever be!" Both Doom and Dante cried out at the exact same time, right on down to the nanosecond. The two antagonists glared at each other. "What did you just say about me!?" Again with the copycat syndrome. "Why are you copying me?" Squall and Auron glanced worriedly at each other. "Shuttup! Make me! That's it, I'm gonna kick your ass! Oh yeah? Yeah!" And so forth, Doom and Dante still talking at the same time.  
Then, just as Auron was about to break up the argument with the flat of his blade, the four men heard an endless screaming that sounded suspiciously like Fox. Less than three seconds after the sound first reached their ears, it was drowned out by a more insistent and sinister noise, one that Doom had hoped never to hear again. From this distance, it sounded something like this:  
WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!  
As soon as the noise stopped, the yelling could be heard again.  
"HALP! ANYONE! ANYONE AT ALL! HELP ME! FOR THE ALMIGHTY GOD'S SAKE HELP ME! AHHHH!" Now they (well, except for Doom) were sure. It was definitely Fox. Whether or not to go help him was not even considered. He needed help, and he was a Rainbow Soldier, and that was all that really mattered. But one thing nagged at the back of everyone's mind (again, except Doom, who went along for other reasons of his own) as they rushed to his aid, 'What the Hell could scare Fox like this?'  
  
Fox was almost out of steam. He had run aimlessly for almost three miles, or that's what his arm-mounted computer said. It felt more like ten. Fox quickly ducked into a side room before the biomechanical terror could round the corner and spot him, and cowered there, breathing hard and coughing up a lung. The stomping steps of the spider mech came around the corner, screeching against the walls, and that's saying something because these halls were wide enough for Pigma Dengar to make his lardass way down them comfortably. As Fox sat there in a corner, a door on the far side of the room opened, and Ganondorf poked his head out, looked around, saw Fox, and broke into a grin of pure, simple happiness at the prospect of a friend to play with.  
"Hi, Fox! What are you doing today?" Ganondorf said brightly, albeit with that idiotic accent, hoping against hope that Fox could spare some time to play a game with him.  
"Oh, nothing much. Just trying to..." Fox replied.  
"Great! Then you have time to play a game with me! Yay!"  
"Well, actually..."  
"Oh, come on! Please?"  
Fox opened his mouth to dash Ganondorf's hopes to miniscule pieces, then thought better of it. "Okay, Ganondorf, I'll play a game with you." The simple-minded idiot beamed happily. "Tell you what we're gonna play. We're gonna play "Save Fox From The Nasty Spider Thing" game! Doesn't that sound fun?"  
Ganondorf nodded his head so hard you could hear his pea-sized brain rattling around inside it. "Duhuhhh, yup yup yup! That sounds mightily fun, Fox!"  
"I'm glad you like it. Now, first thing you do is run straight outside and beat up on that weird machine out there. When it's scrap, come back and see me."  
Without another word, Ganondorf hustled out of the room and found the spider mech. It sounded something like this:  
"Ah-ha! There you are, you oversized tarantula! Prepare to meet your doom!" WHACK CRUNCH TONG!  
'Tong?' Fox thought.  
Questioning beeps and grunts emanated from what could only be the spider. Apparently it found this new, profoundly stupid entity interesting. It decided that a few tests were in order. The first was to see if the annoying pest was bulletproof. As its dual chainguns whirred up to optimal firing speed, Doom, Dante, Squall and Auron rounded the corner. All but Doom froze in their tracks at the sight of the overlarge Spider Mastermind which dominated the hall directly in front of them, its ugly-yet-effective chainguns spinning clockwise quickly enough to seem to turn counter clockwise.   
"GET DOWN!" Doom yelled as he grabbed Squall and Dante and threw them to the ground. He tried to grab Auron, but the ectoplasmic swordsman had become transparent, a sign that he could not be damaged by mere bullets. Finally, Doom threw himself to the side and rolled away from the front of the Master.  
Ganondorf, meanwhile, had been doing his level best (for what it's worth) to destroy the gargantuan arachnid. By now, however, it was beginning to seem that he couldn't do it. But that was to anyone watching, not for Ganon himself. You see, in Ganondorf's eyes, he was being wildly successful in his fight against the Spider Mastermind, and that any minute it would collapse in humiliating defeat and leave him free to go collect his reward from Fox. Then the chainguns began firing.  
WWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!  
The tremendous din of the miniguns was still ringing in Doom's ears as he peeked anxiously around the corner to see what there was to see. Auron was unharmed, him being intangible and all, Dante was crouched behind a corner across the hall from Doom, and Fox was nowhere in sight. Also, the Mastermind had come to the rather obvious (and unnecessarily messy) conclusion that its former irritant, though appallingly moronic, was not bulletproof. Unfortunately for the Mastermind, there was not enough left of said test subject to run any more experiments on. They just didn't make lab rats like they used to, it thought. Too bad. Then it noticed Dante coming around the corner.  
Doom looked on in disbelieving silence as Dante marched purposefully up to the Mastermind's "face" and began to chew it out for killing one of his main punching bags, invading the sanctity of his Castle, and being an all-around asshole in general. The Spider, equally surprised at the balls of this new target, did nothing for a moment. Then the various and colorful insults that were directed at its mother fought their way to its brain.   
Seeing the ominous expression on the Spider's "face", Doom prudently pulled his head back around the corner. About ten seconds of unprintable dialogue later, there came the expected hiss of hydraulics as the M-Mind reared one of its legs back and smacked Dante a good one. Dante flew past Doom's hiding spot and impacted against the far wall, leaving a devil hunter-shaped impression in the wall. Doom shook his head sadly, and then returned to the matter at hand. Running a quick inventory check on himself, Doom found that he had one single-barrel shotgun with twenty shells, one service pistol with fifty bullets, a key-started chainsaw, and a rocket launcher with three rockets. All in all, not nearly enough to firepower to put a biomechanical death machine down. Maybe to cut the legs out from under it, but not enough to kill it. But, as I'm sure you're all well aware, beggars can't be choosers.   
"How thick do you think that dome over the brain is?" Auron asked out of nowhere.   
Doom nearly blinked from surprise. "I'd say about three feet of bulletproof glass. Can you break that?"  
"With help, probably. Alone... maybe, maybe not. Someone's going to have to distract him."  
"I've got just the thing." Doom said, turning to Dante, who was just picking himself up off the floor. "Hey, Dante, come here. I've got something to tell you." Dante managed to shake the little pink bunnies from his head just as he reached Doom.  
"What is it?" Dante asked.  
"You know that Spider back there? Good. Do you know what he's been saying about you and your family? Didn't think so. He's been spouting all kinds of lies, let me tell you just a few..."  
And Doom launched into such a pack of slanderous lies about Dante and all his relatives that the Grinch would have been horrified to hear (much less repeat) them. What with Dante's mother, Maria, having to go through special-ed classes when she was in school (she didn't, in fact she graduated from college at the top of all her classes), and his father, Sparda, being nothing more than a parasitic drain on society (which is mostly true) who abused his wife and kids (which was most certainly NOT true). Dante, however, got the best, or worst, insult of all. According to the Spider Mastermind, Dante was an albino homo who buried his perverted views of life under a macho, womanizing façade.   
Dante stood motionless for three seconds, then said, "Excuse me a moment." And turned to duck into a conveniently placed soundproof room with padded walls.  
Doom tapped him on the shoulder, and handed him a large glass bottle. "Here, use this and cork it when you're through. You never can tell when a bottle of curses will be needed."  
"Thank you." Dante said as he closed the door firmly behind him. Doom and Auron looked on as nothing whatsoever happened. Then a little smoke started to curl lazily out from under the door. Faint thuds and ripping sounds were heard from within. So much for flawless soundproofing. Then the knob turned, and Dante stepped back out, surrounded by billowing clouds of acrid smoke.  
"There, I'm finished now. If you would be so kind as to direct me to the Mastermind, I will be on my way." Auron and Doom pointed wordlessly around the corner. Dante nodded curtly and walked calmly off.  
"There's your distraction. Get moving." Doom barked.  
"Just one thing. Where's Squall?" Auron asked.   
Doom opened his mouth to reply, but then realized that he had completely forgotten about Squall. He came to a decision in a matter of two seconds. "New orders. Find Squall, then crack the dome."  
Auron nodded oh, say, an inch, and moved off on his mission. In the short space of time that it took for the two strategists to formulate a plan, many crashes and much gunfire was heard from around the corner.  
Doom readied his launcher, drew a breath, and charged headlong into the fray. Just as he was about to loose off a rocket at the hideous monster, Auron flitted across his sights, forcing him to search out another vantage point from which to fire. Then Dante was in the way, hacking viciously at a mechanical leg. Doom swore not so quietly to himself, and moved yet again. As he was dashing to another spot, he tripped over Squall, who was belly down on the cold, hard ground, trying for all he was worth to get under the Spider.  
"Ow, dammit! Watch it, you klutz!" Squall cried, doubling up in pain.  
"Suck it up and drive on, wimp. Where have you been?" Doom replied.  
"Right here, stupid! Where'd you think I was? On the shitter?"  
"Ladies, ladies, no time for this." Auron said. "We have a problem, remember?"  
Doom's face lit up, but of course no one could tell through his visor. "And I just solved it. Auron, here's that help you were grousing about earlier. If you two can crack that dome, we might just have a chance. Now get cracking!"(No pun intended. Really.)   
"And what will you be doing?" Squall asked.  
"I'll be darting about on the sidelines, waiting for an opportunity to shoot a rocket at Daddy Longlegs there."  
So it was ordained, and so it was done. During the previous conversation, Dante had been chopping merrily away at that leg I mentioned earlier. Now his efforts paid off, as the repeated collisions with an unearthly (and sharp) sword were just too much for the reinforced titanium alloy leg to bear. So it snapped like a twig, and the Arachnoid listed drunkenly to the side as it suddenly found that one-eighth of its much-needed support was abruptly and irreplaceably gone. Life sucks like that sometimes. However, seven-eighths of mobility were still operating, and the guns still worked, so it shrugged the matter off. The matter of that small, red-coated thing now warranted its full attention. For Dante, that meant more bullets to dodge. He learned that dancing to the tune of a thousand bullets per second is something that is much like running with scissors: It's fun, naughty, and a hell of a rush, but eventually Murphy will decide that you've had more than enough fun and throw a steel pipe at your legs. Just remember, kiddies, that Murphy's Law of Chance takes no prisoners.  
The M-Mind roared and lunged at Dante, hoping to crush him against the wall. It succeeded in smashing a nice statue to bits, but only brushed Dante. That had more effect than you might think, as three tons of mechanical spider moving at roughly fifty miles per hour clipping your arm has the immediate effect of spinning you into the nearest wall, which is just what happened to Dante. The Spider, recovering quickly, hobbled around and lunged again. This time Dante was ready for it and leaped over its head, skimming the dome as it passed underneath. When he landed, he turned back to the frustrated mech.  
"I have a saying you might be interested to hear. 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Try to fool me thrice, and you're screwed.'" Dante rebuked as he scraped his two index fingers together in the universally known "Shame, shame" gesture.  
While the Spider was still attempting to gather its wits, Auron and Squall jumped onto its metal frame and scrabbled up the smooth dome, using their weapons as spelunking gear. When they reached the top they lost no time in aligning themselves perfectly, drawing wwwaaaaaayyyy back, and driving their swords deep into the glass dome.   
Finally, Doom saw his chance. While the terror was occupied with Dante, Squall, and Auron, Doom knelt on one knee, drew a bead on his target, and let fly. The rocket impacted squarely on the face of the machine, but three-foot thick bulletproof glass domes are resilient. Resilient enough to stop a rocket. Yet in any situation where rockets of any kind are involved, damage is an unavoidable result. Cracks spider webbed outward from the impact site, totally blocking the Spider's view. Still, there was no penetration. Dante fixed that problem in a hurry. He punched hard right in the middle of the cracked glass, shattering it and exposing the monster's brain.  
Now, some might expect me to say that due to some bizarre requirements, the Spider Mastermind was required to maintain a perfectly balanced vacuum (think airless) inside the dome. If that were so, then the only result would be that the all-too-sudden change of air pressure would cause the considerable brain of the creature to be sucked out of the small hole in the dome at high speeds, splattering it all over the floor, walls, ceiling, and everyone nearby with blood and cerebral tissue. Needless to say, that kind of regrettable occurrence would effectively end the Mastermind's existence as a threat, or anything else for that matter.  
But, for plot's sake, this was not the case. Instead, all that happened was that the M-Mind got a face full of sharp glass, and Dante got a sore fist. He stepped back, rubbing it ruefully, but upon seeing the damage he had wrought on the glass he decided it was well worth it. The newly lacerated opponent kept trying to get back on its feet, but Dante, Auron and Squall were having some cruel fun with it. You know, the kind of stuff that mean boys do to little, helpless butterflies. They would gather at one leg and work industriously to pull it off. They were on the third leg by the time Doom decided that the M-Mind was no longer a threat. He cautiously approached the face of the Spider and peered into the hole Dante had made. Its face was cut and bleeding in several places, and it was coughing up blood. But like I said earlier, Doom was totally devoid of pity. Doom reached into the hole, thumbed open (not too gently, I might add) an eyelid, and thumped the eyeball. The monstrosity attempted to screech in pain, but only succeeded in coughing up more blood.  
Doom sniffed disdainfully and turned to see the other guys starting on their fifth leg. When it came inevitably off, it fell on Dante's foot, drawing a curse from him and snickers from the other two. That got Doom started on an idea. Just before he could finish the thought, however, the M-Mind began blaring warning klaxons and a female computer voice pleasantly said the following (in five different languages):  
"Warning: Self-destruct sequence engaged. Self-destruct will initialize a thermo-nuclear blast, which will decimate anything within a twenty-mile radius. Countdown will begin at T-minus two minutes. Have a nice day."   
"Well, that sucks." Dante said.  
"Damn right it sucks! Quick, you three hold it up and I'll start slashing the circuits and wires underneath the brain!" Squall yelled.  
"Gotcha." Auron said as he, Doom, and Dante strained to lift one side of the lifeless body high enough for Squall to get under and do his stuff. Meanwhile, the M-Mind was laughing the laugh that a dying man gives when he knows he's taking his enemies down with him. In short, it was chortling like a friggin' kamakazi.  
"Come on, come on! Can't you girls lift any faster? Move!" Squall yelled.  
"I assure you, Squall, that we are lifting as fast as we possibly can." Doom grunted.  
Finally, the delicate underbelly of the Spider was revealed. Squall dashed in and proceeded to hack wildly at the exposed wiring, with no audible result from the speakers, which were steadily counting down the seconds (still in five languages). After twenty seconds of nonstop chopping, Doom pulled Squall back.  
"It's no use, man. We'll have to think of another way." Dante said.  
"Well, we have one minute, fifteen seconds to do so. Wait, now fourteen, now thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight..." Auron stated (in five languages at once).  
"Shut up, fools! I'm thinking!" Doom yelled. (Lots of yelling going on today.)  
"I was wondering what that burning smell was." Squall said.  
"It's gonna be the smell of your ass smokin' if you... That's it! All of you come with me."  
Once they were a reasonable distance away, Doom faced them all and asked, "What was I doing two seconds ago?"  
"Um, threatening me?" Squall answered.  
"Blathering pointlessly?" Dante said.  
"Thinking?" Auron guessed.  
"No, I was cursing. Now, all men know it for a proven fact that cursing is a good way to stop someone cold, if only for a moment. And that's only when served in small proportions. When oh, say, a bottle of the stuff is released all at once, the effects are much greater."  
"Hey, wait a minute," Dante said as if the meaning of life itself had just dawned on him. "You're not talking about my bottle of curses, are you?"  
"Yes, I am. Give it here."  
"No!"  
"Without it, that thing will self-destruct, and everything on this island will be obliterated, including us."  
"I don't care! It's mine! You can't have it!"  
"Dante, we have thirty seconds to disable the bomb. If we don't, we're dead. How much clearer can I make that for you?"  
Now that his options were laid out neatly in front of Dante, he began to have second thoughts. He started to argue with himself as to whether or not to give up his bottle of curses. His selfish, greedy side (read - 95% of his personality) told him to keep it, that Doom was lying just to get his bottle. His logical side (the other 5%) pleaded with him to give it up and save his own life. Little did he know that he was holding this argument audibly to the other men. They glanced worriedly at each other as Dante ranted to himself concerning the bottle. Finally the undeniable logic won out and he gave his bottle to Doom.  
"It's about damn time. Now watch, and learn."  
Doom whirled around and heaved the bottle of curses with impeccable accuracy, landing it right inside the hole in the glass dome. When the bottle broke on the Spider Mastermind's face, the scene went white and the men's ears were deafened by the voluminous flood of ghastly curses, profanity, and blue air dye.  
When Doom could see again, he shook his head and thanked his helmet's sound filters profoundly. He looked around, and saw Dante up against the wall. Way, way up against the wall. As Doom watched, Dante peeled off the wall and fell all of ten yards to the ground. Squall was crouched over, holding his hands to his bleeding ears. Auron was leaning heavily on his sword, looking surprised more than anything else. Then Doom noticed that the countdown had ceased. He turned to check on the Spider, and gave a low whistle at what he saw.  
There was broken glass everywhere, but the brain of the M-Mind was nowhere to be found. There was no blood, brains, or any organic mess at all. The brain was simply and utterly gone. All that was left was the metal frame, and it was warped badly out of shape.  
Dante stood up, grinned toothily, and provided his indispensable opinion on the issue. "Well, guys, that was fun. But you know, kicking ass makes me hungry. Let's go get something to eat."  
"What about Fox?" Squall asked.   
"What about him? Think a moment, if he still had him comm. unit, we would've found him by now. As it is, we'll have to get a fully manned search party together to seek him out with any kind of efficiency at all. And besides, we can't search on an empty stomach."   
"Fool boy here is right. First we must take care of ourselves, before we can tend to others. I vote we go eat and restock." Doom said.  
"They have a point, Squall, and a very good one at that. I recommend that we rest awhile." Auron suggested.  
"But he's still out there somewhere! He could be dying as we speak! We can't just abandon him!" Squall shouted.  
"What good will we be to him if by the time we find him we don't have enough stamina to help him at all?" Doom asked.  
"...Fine. We rest, restock, and recruit more manpower, but we've got to get back out here as fast as we can."  
  
Now, the average reader would probably be wondering what Fox was up to right now. The average reader might also think that this chapter is over. Well, I'm here to tell you that this chapter is not over and that we will get back to Fox shortly. That means that you, as the reader, will have to stay in your seat and finish reading this chapter, or risk suffering chronic angst concerning the end of this chapter until the worry becomes to much for you to bear and you race back to the computer only to find that the site it is on is down for some reason. Then you will have to put up with the burning curiosity until the next day, when you will read it as soon as you can. So, if you have to pee, you should have gone before you started reading. And, by the way, if you can't control your bladder, you should be wearing a diaper anyway.  
  
From the abridged recount of the Spider Mastermind (I'd feel safe betting a glass marble that some of you out there are well and truly tired of that name) encounter, some might assume that it did not last terribly long. Well, it did. As soon as Ganondorf had hurried from the room to confront the cretin, no wait, creature, Fox had vacated the immediate area by the door Ganon had come in by. By the time the Mastermind was vaporized by the curses of an indignant half-demon devil hunter, Fox was well out of the considerable blast radius of the Curse Bomb. As Squall was debating with the other victors as to whether or not to go get help, Fox had gone even further. Now, as Dante was shoving a combination of Milk Duds and sausage down his all-consuming gullet, Fox had problems. These problems were caused not so much by a threatening entity in his immediate vicinity as by his emotional state of mind. The combined effects of 1) Break dancing whilst drunk on Vanilla Coke, 2) Getting trapped by Katt Monroe, 3) Wandering the Castle in a delirious stupor, 4) Being chased by a bloodthirsty machine, 5) Being shot three times by said bloodthirsty machine, 6) Seeing Ganondorf, and 7) Wandering the Castle in a delirious stupor while violently ill and bleeding profusely had taken their tool on poor Fox, and at this time he was rather, ah... hmmm... how to say this nicely... quite mad. Do you doubt me? Then get a look at his current behavior.  
Fox was stumbling drunkenly from one side of the hall to the other, moving in a vaguely eastern direction. As he shambled about, he "sung" to himself.  
"Ahhh... Chicken goes cluck cluck, cows go moo, piggy goes oink oink, how about you? Got to be an animal, just like you..." Fox slurred. Before he could begin the next verse, however, a scuffing noise sounded behind Fox. His head lolled around, the bloodshot (and slightly crossed) eyes rolling in their sockets as he looked about for the source of the noise. When nothing more was heard, he turned back around and continued with his "song."  
"Ahem, hem. Lemurs go sniff sniff, ostrich go bah, koalas go (squirrel noises)... eh?"  
There went that noise again. Now, even though Fox was so drunk as to be considered clinically brain-dead by most doctors and brain surgeons, he still retained the basic instincts of life. These included: fear, happiness, idiocy, hunger, and the very least motor functions required to move about and keep his heart beating. At the moment, fear was beginning to take hold because of the unknown noise. He stood as still as a wounded drunkard can and attempted to determine the source of the noise. It sounded to him as if it were all around him, that infernal scuffing. Scuff, scuff, scuff... How the hell is a man supposed to "sing" with all that racket going on right around him? Fox began to suspect that whatever was making that noise might, just might, be after him. That was when the fear really set in and got to work on his nervous system. The very first thing it made Fox do was to compel him to whirl around (with the accompanying puke because of his sudden movement) and run away at top speed. "Top speed" for a hurt and addled Fox is not a great thing, however, and his pursuer easily caught up with his jerky stride.  
As I'm sure you could all see coming from a mile away, Fox tripped and fell flat out on the cold, hard floor stones. When Fox tried to get up and carry on running, he discovered with no little surprise that he lacked the ability to do so. The most he could manage was to turn over on his back and stare at his pursuer.  
  
"And just what in the Hell were you doing while I was locked in my own room, Fox?" Katt growled. "Why, I've half a mind to... Fox! Stop staring at me like that! You'd think I'd just grown a second head!"  
Fox continued to gape at Katt as if she were a horrible demon from the very deepest recesses of Hell. After it became obvious that Fox did not recognize Katt, she became worried. "... Fox? What's wrong with you? You're scaring me, Fox. Stop it. Don't you recognize me? It's me, Katt. You know, the woman every man in the universe wants...? You don't recognize me, do you? What happened? Can you talk?"  
"No." Fox croaked.  
Katt sighed. "I've been looking all over for you, and this is what I find. You should really lay off the drinks, boy. It's making you act stupid. Now get up." No response, unless you count wildly rolling eyes as a response. "Don't you make me bend down there and make you get up, Fox. I can guarantee that you won't enjoy it. Now, for the last time, get the Hell up!" A passing observer would have thought that it was impossible that fox eyes could roll so much and not fall right out of the head they were nestled in. "Dammit all, Fox! GET UP!" Katt yelled as she reached down and firmly grabbed Fox's right arm, which had a bullet hole in it that was not immediately obvious to Katt. The resulting cry of pain sounded something like this, though your experiences may vary:  
"AAAAGGGHHH!!!" Fox yelled in a voice surprisingly lacking in drunken slurriness. Katt instantly dropped Fox's arm back onto the hard floor, which was good for a pained whimper. On a sudden hunch, Katt pulled out a handy Breathalyzer and held Fox's head up to it. It took him a minute to understand that Katt wanted him to breath into the machine, but eventually he got it. When the reading came up, Katt was greatly astonished to see that the caffeine levels in Fox's blood were well below drunken levels. That meant, for all you thick-headed dummies out there, that Fox's behavior was no longer influenced by the hyperactive substance.  
It took Katt all of half a second to deduce that if he wasn't drunk on caffeine, he was drunk on pain. A quick check confirmed this, and Katt decided with disappointment that there would be no pissing off of Fara and seducing of Fox today, as any such activity would most likely result in Fox's untimely demise. Oh well. Some other time. For now, though, it was time to get Fox to a trained medic, and Yuna was just one such person. The trouble was, how was she to transport him? She realized with consternation that she would have to call for help, and that meant that she would have to explain exactly why she was stalking a hurt Fox through the unknown hall of Mallet Castle, and what she would want with him when she found him.  
Katt sighed heavily as she unhooked her radio from her belt and dialed up Yuna's number. After ten seconds Yuna found the time to hit the receive button on her unit. "Hello, this is Yuna speaking. How can I help you?"  
"Yeah, hi Yuna. Listen, could you get Trish to home in on the co-ordinates that I am transmitting from? I've got Fox here, and he's hurt pretty bad."  
"What did you do to him this time, Katt?"  
"How did you know it was me?"  
"Silly girl, you don't just forget a trained trickster's voice. It's not good for your health."  
"Okay..." Katt had been unaware that her voice had become a valuable commodity to recognize. "So, how about that help we're supposed to be discussing?"  
"Oh right. Someone should be over there soon. Just sit tight and don't draw any unwanted attention to yourself. Bye." BEEP.  
"Where does that addled woman think I'll go?" Katt muttered as she clipped her radio back onto her belt. "Well, it looks like it's just you and me, boy. How long do you think they'll take to get here? Man, I hope it's not too long. I have schemes to formulate and execute. What schemes, you ask? Sorry, if I told you I'd have to kill you. I can tell you the ones I've already finished, though. You know the time when Link's cap went missing and mysteriously resurfaced on the black market a week after ward? That was me. Just don't tell Link, would you? Oh, and you know that..."  
And so the rather one-sided conversation continued, and Fox had little choice but to listen and pray that help would arrive soon and he could go to sleep. With nightfall came relief, as the rescue team arrived and secured him on a stretcher bound for Yuna's clinic. Luckily for Fox, Dante just happened to have some anesthetic on his person and administered it to Fox in a rare episode of pity for his fellow man/vulpine.  
Little did any of them know, a much greater menace would soon befall the good (and I use that term lightly) people of Mallet Island... 


	9. Encroaching Disaster

9.Encroaching   
Disaster  
Ah, another beautiful dawn at Mallet Castle. The soft rays filtered through the stained glass windows of the   
Great Hall, where every Castle resident takes their meals. Some eat at normal times, such as Malon and   
Auron. Others have more… irregular schedules. Take Crash for example. He usually eats whenever the urge   
strikes him to do so. It doesn't matter whether he's hungry or not. That he eats is what matters. And Zidane,   
why, he can almost never be found at the dinner table during the appropriate mealtimes. He likes to skulk   
around and cram food down his sneaky little gullet either before or after everyone arrives for his or her daily   
sustenance. But I digress. One might ponder exactly why it is that I am describing to you the mealtime habits   
of certain choice individuals, and indeed why I started this scene in the Great Hall, as the beginning of this   
particular chapter has no relevance to the breaking of fast in any way, shape, or form. The answer, my   
curious friends, is that even though there is no eating at the beginning of this chapter, one Castle tenant   
does make his bed on the warm mantle over the fire. That tenant, boys and girls, is Red XIII.  
Our personality of interest was curled up on the mantle, purring softly as he snoozed contentedly on the   
warm stone, ears twitching every now and then to ward off the occasional dust mote. In most other places in   
the Castle, it would have been flies worrying the reflex muscles in his ears, but in the Great Hall and   
adjoining Great Kitchen, great pains were taken to keep the place clean. And before you point it out, the   
dust came from the uppermost regions of rafters, where only Zidane ventured regularly and with confidence.   
As is evidenced by previous encounters with this individual, Zidane is not a very clean person. The rafters   
were so high, in fact, that it took any dust that was disturbed from there hours to make it to Red's sleeping   
spot. Oddly enough, if Zidane was thrown (and believe me, he was thrown) from the same place, he reaches   
solid Earth in less than one minute, burning with re-entry heat. Needless to say, this kind of feat defies the   
very laws of physics, and such a stunt can only be accomplished in Mallet Castle. Chalk it up to its close   
proximity to the gates of Hell.  
It's amazing how far off track I can go before returning to the main focus point of the moment, isn't it? Sorry,   
here we go…  
It was an amazing and unique knack that Red XIII had (and has). This knack cannot be found anywhere else   
in the Castle, or probably anywhere else in the world. This much-envied gift of Red's was that no one and   
nothing ever woke him up before he was goddamn ready to, and your attitude and jealousy be damned,   
dammit. If he had an appointment or other such pressing need to awaken earlier than usual, then his internal   
body clock readjusted itself automatically. All in all, Red XIII was what Dante would have called a "lucky   
bastard."  
Not much indication of "encroaching disaster" yet, eh? Well shaddap and wait for a change. God, some   
people…  
Red XIII cracked his one sleepy eye open and yawned cavernously. Like all quadruped cats of any size, Red   
felt the pressing need to stand up and arch his back after his rest. Once that instinctual action was out of the   
way, he leapt nimbly down to the floor, prowled into the Great Kitchen, and flicked the refrigerator door   
open with his tail. After a minute or so of fruitless browsing, he came to the inevitable conclusion that the   
fridge needed to be restocked in the worst way, as there was no meat whatsoever. That in itself was odd,   
and Red thought with a rueful grunt that Dante had apparently not been here in a while, or such a   
blasphemy of culinary supply would never have occurred.  
As Red was heading out the door, he caught sight of a highly polished, stainless steel bowl on the floor.   
Being the good citizen he was, Red decided to put it away. As he leaned down to pick it up in his mouth,   
which was very clean, by the way, he saw his reflection on the burnished metal. A red-furred feline stared   
back out at him, the exotic bird feathers intertwined in his mane adding to his predatory look. His left eye,   
red, solemnly matched his gaze. The right eye had several old scars over it, the damaged tissue looking like   
purplish plastic now more than anything else. Well. He put the bowl away and continued out of the kitchen.   
When he re-entered the Great Hall, Red found Doom sitting at the table with his head on the tabletop and   
his helmet in his lap. Red sauntered over and took a seat at the table next to Doom, who seemed to have   
dozed off. Red sat quietly for a while, then decided that if Doom was going to sleep, he was going to have to   
do it elsewhere. A discreet cough brought Doom's head up quickly, and his cloudy blue eyes bored   
reproachfully into Red's eye.  
"Dare I inquire as to the reason of your disturbing me?" Doom asked as politely as he could manage, which   
was negligible, to say the least.  
Red matched Doom's question with one of his own, "You are aware that you are sleeping at the one place   
where you are least likely to get some rest, aren't you?"  
"My shotgun has other ideas. What do you care anyway?"  
"My innate need to be polite, I suppose."  
"You can take your polite needs and shove it, pal. Go away."  
"So ho! It's bad manners and insulting time, is it? Well, let me tell you that you are an insensitive, brutish   
moron, who couldn't find his ass with both hands tied behind his back!" That made Doom sit up straighter.  
"Not only that, but you apparently have forgotten what a bath is, and you stink like a water buffalo. Your   
hair is greasy as a McDonald's cheeseburger, and your suit is as filthy as if you roll in mud for a living."  
Doom was fighting to keep his trigger finger under control, now. "Who said any of this was your   
business?"  
"You started it."  
"And you can be damned sure I'll finish it, too, you overgrown, mangy, one-eyed alley cat!"  
Red could take "overgrown" and "alley cat" quite easily. The terms simply did not apply to him. "Mangy"   
was a mild insult to him, but not overly so. "One-eyed," however, struck a nerve in Red XIII. "Tell me, do   
you enjoy the use of your arms?" he growled.  
"Very much so."  
"Prepare to be disappointed."  
"Try it, puss."  
With a roar, Red threw himself onto Doom, knocking him from his seat and sending them both sprawling   
across the hard flagstone floor. Having four legs, Red was on his feet quicker than Doom, but you don't just   
stroll through Hell expecting to live very long if you don't have good reflexes. Doom rolled quickly to side   
and came up on one knee with his service pistol in one hand. He squeezed off two shots, both of which   
missed by an impossibly narrow margin. Red XIII pounced again, and his front claws raked first down the   
front of Doom's breastplate, then continued on to gouge the back of his armor with a kick from his back   
claws. Doom fell forward heavily, and Red landed lightly behind him.  
Red turned and asked, "Had enough yet?"  
Doom got slowly up on one knee again, and shook his head slightly, giving the impression that he was   
disoriented, and boosting Red's smugness by another couple of notches.  
"Yeah, I thought s-" Red began.  
Suddenly, Doom half-turned and sprang at our favorite quadruped. The two antagonists rolled about for a   
minute or five, then stopped in the classic, "Each one has their hands around the other's throat," position.   
After fifteen minutes of nonstop strangling, it was apparent that Doom and Red were evenly matched, both   
in strength of the hand and in strength of the throat. Doom remedied the impasse by landing a cheap shot in   
Red's gut. Red countered in turn by nearly hamstringing Doom's leg. Of course, once these trivial   
diversions were out of the way, it was back to the stranglehold routine. And that was exactly how Lulu   
found them.  
"Here now, what's all this?" she barked. An expensive porcelain bowl crashed to the floor. "Boys, boys!   
Stop this at once!" Lulu dove into the middle of the fight and wrestled the combatants apart with not-so-  
mild electrical shocks. Once separated, Doom and Red XIII collapsed into the nearest upright chairs,   
gasping for breath.  
Lulu's bad humor fell first on Red. "Red thir-TEEN! I expected much better from you! You are usually such a   
mature and polite soul. You have really disappointed me now. What have you to say for yourself?"  
Red hung his head sheepishly and mumbled an apology.  
If Doom had hoped to avoid a scolding, he was wrong. "And you!" Lulu paused for breath, and got her first   
good look at Doom. "…Who are you, anyway? Come on, speak up, boy! I don't have all day!"  
Doom chose not to answer right away, and instead ran his hand through his tan, crew cut hair, searching for   
the source of stinging pain that had gone unnoticed until just now.  
No woman likes to be ignored, especially when angry. Lulu, however, was known for her temper. With a   
reputation to match Fara's for intolerance of just about anything, the thing at the top of her piss off list was   
being ignored purposefully. "I'm talking to you, John Doe, and by God if I don't get an answer right the hell   
now I'm going to-"  
"Come here, loud one." Doom commanded. Frothing at the mouth in her rage, Lulu marched closer, fully   
intent on breaking his neck. Before she had approached close enough to accomplish her goal, however,   
Doom stopped her at arm's length with a hand on her shoulder, turned her around, and plucked one of her   
long hairpins out of her midnight-colored tresses. The corresponding portion or her immaculate hairdo   
immediately fell down into her face, and she whirled around to see Doom using her hairpin as makeshift   
tweezers. He had found the source of his annoyance on his scalp, and plucked it out with the pin. He held   
the offending object in the light for all to see, revealing it to be a bloody half of a claw. Upon sighting this,   
Red quickly checked all of his claws, and, sure enough, found that one was broken off halfway.  
"There now," Doom said, handing the pin back to its owner, "That feels better. Thank you for the use of   
your hairpin."  
Lulu stared at the befouled object, her eye twitching spasmodically.  
"Now then, if you will kindly lower your voice, I will be happy to answer any questions you may have."   
Behind Lulu, Red XIII began shaking his head and waving his front paws around frantically.  
"What, now you won't even ask me those pressing questions you had before? Come on, I don't have all   
day. I swear, some people are so rude that way…"  
  
Dear readers, I must interrupt this thrilling scene and transport you elsewhere for a moment or two. The next   
few seconds will be filled with such profanity and obscenity that if I were to describe it in even rough detail,   
I would be dragged down by demons into the fiery pits of hell. And since such a fate is high on my   
avoidance priorities list, you will have to use your imaginations (however limited they may be) to make up   
your own versions of this scene. Thank you for understanding.  
  
Rinoa sighed wistfully and flopped down on the grass at a cliff's edge overlooking the ocean. She stared   
out at the deep blue expanses of water for a moment, then looked down at her elbow to see a powder blue   
flower waving gently in the wind.  
"Ooh, how pretty…" she said. She reached to pick it, but suddenly realized that if she did, it would die.   
Killing was not in Rinoa's nature, so instead she began to ponder exactly how she was going to get it out of   
the ground. Coming to a solution, she snapped her fingers and reached into her small backpack, which   
contained a Styrofoam cup, a plastic plate with utensils, and some snack food, among other things. Using   
the spoon, she gently dug the flower up by the roots, being oh so careful not to damage it in any way.   
Scooping up some extra soil, she packed the fragile flower firmly into the cup, and watered it with some tap   
water from her canteen.  
"There. That should do until I can find a proper flower pot for you." Rinoa set the cup down next to her and   
resumed staring out at the horizon. She sighed again and began to doze off, but her pleasant nap was not to   
be. An explosion of immense proportions rocked the ground she was resting on, jerking her back to   
wakefulness and drawing her attention immediately back to the castle. There was a great smoldering hole in   
the castle about six floors up. Upon reflection, Rinoa realized that that was about where the Great Hall was.   
Her thoughts were interrupted, however, when a faint screaming came to her ears.  
"aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAHHHHH-HOOF!!!" Still smoking from the blast, Doom hit the ground hard on his   
back and bounced, flipped over onto his stomach in the air, and landed at the edge of the cliff. He slid a bit,   
and finally stopped moving with his legs hanging over the cliff, dangling from a rock that was fast losing its   
already questionable hold in the ground.  
"Don't just sit there, girl! Help me!" Doom gasped.  
"You… you crushed my flower…" Tears began to well up pitifully in Rinoa's eyes.  
"Now is really not the time to be worrying about a flower, girl!"  
"But it was such a cute flower!"  
"Let me make this simple for you. You can help me out here and I'll get you a new flower better than the one   
I crushed, or you can let me fall and feel guilty for the rest of your life."  
Rinoa sniffed. "…Guilty?"  
"Horribly guilty."  
"Alright, just a minute. Let me find my rope…" Rinoa searched through her pack and found a nice, thick   
rope. She tied one end to a rock with a sailor's knot that Squall had shown her one time. "Here you go!" she   
said as she threw the other end to Doom's waiting hand.  
And none too soon. Just as he grabbed the rope, the rock gave way under his weight and bounced down   
the cliff, fragmenting into several pieces along the way. Doom heaved himself onto solid ground and lay   
there on his back, gasping for breath. Rinoa was still at the edge.  
"Wow, that rock could've been you if I hadn't had that rope!" she exclaimed.  
"No shit, girl." Doom groaned.  
Rinoa gasped, "Ooooooooh! You cursed! I'm gonna tell Squall!"  
Doom rolled his head to the right and looked at Rinoa. But before he could say anything, Red XIII streaked   
out of the sky and landed right on Doom's stomach, adding to his already considerable discomfort.  
Red got up stiffly. He, too, was still smoking from the explosion. "What in all nine hells did I land on? My   
back is killing me… Oh. It was just you."  
"I'm gonna wring your furry little neck for that…" Doom coughed.  
"Hey, it is not my fault that I was closer to Lulu when she unleashed that Ultima spell. I flew farther up in the   
air than you, and as such you landed first. You should have gotten out of the way."  
"Speaking of that spell, it's a damn good thing I put my helmet back on before she went berserk. And I hold   
you personally responsible for that, by the way."  
"What! Why?"  
"If you hadn't come into the room and woken me up in the first place, we wouldn't have fought. And if we   
hadn't fought, that woman wouldn't have gotten mad at us and blown the whole room to smithereens."  
"You were the one who took her hairpin and used it to pull one of my claws out of your thick head."  
"That's not the point. The point is that you started all of this."  
"I was politely suggesting that you move from the table for your nap. It is not like I was planting explosives   
to shift you from your seat."  
"Need I repeat myself?"  
"Is there no end to your grossly unfounded hostility towards me?"  
"Let me check. Hmm… No, I don't believe there is."  
"I wish I had landed on your head rather than your stomach. I might have knocked some sense into you!"  
"I've got all the sense I need."  
"You must be rather low on change, then."  
"You boys better stop this fighting before Lulu comes back!" Rinoa warned.  
"… She's right. What say we cease our argument for now, hmm?" Red asked.  
"Fine. Neither one of us are in any condition to fight right now, anyway." Doom sighed.  
"Good!" Rinoa laughed. "Now that you two are friends, let's all sit here at the cliff and stare at the ocean."  
"Well, I don't have anything better to do at the moment." Red XIII said.  
After about fifteen minutes of uninterrupted silence and serenity, Rinoa decided that it was time for a   
change. "Let's shoot some fireworks!" She proceeded to rummage about in her pack for the nice, big ones   
that she had had Squall buy her yesterday. All she'd had to do was to turn on the waterworks, and presto!   
Brand new fireworks straight from the factory were suddenly before her.  
"Just when I was starting to enjoy sitting out here, too." Doom lamented. "And I was beginning to think   
that there might actually be something to all this "relaxing" crap I've been hearing about lately."  
"You get used to having your peaceful moments interrupted around here." Red said as Rinoa laid out some   
of the largest fireworks that Doom had ever seen.  
"Now, if I didn't know better, I'd say those were standard military-issue rockets…" he mused.  
Red snorted. "Squall goes to great lengths to keep Rinoa happy. I would not be surprised in the least if they   
were real rockets."  
"There! All done. Now all I need is a lighter. Do you have one, strange, grumpy man?" Rinoa asked.  
"I don't smoke." Doom answered.  
"A match will do."  
"Oh, well, those are a completely different story. Sorry, but they all burnt up when that woman with   
emotional issues went haywire."  
"You were an arsonist in a past life, weren't you?" Red asked.  
"What do you mean, 'were?'"  
"Red, you wouldn't happen to have a lighter or some matches with you, would you?"  
"And just where would I carry them, Rinoa?"  
"Hmm, there is that. But wait! I have an idea!" Rinoa grabbed Red XIII's tail and began pulling it towards the   
"fireworks."  
"Um, Rinoa, just what is it that you are doing with my tail?" Red XIII inquired.  
"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to use the fiery end of your tail to light the fireworks!"  
"Yeah, Red, isn't it obvious?" Doom snickered. "I should think someone of your high intelligence would   
have picked up on that right away."  
Red gave Doom a look, but did not deign to reply. Instead, he turned his gaze on Rinoa. "You be careful   
with my tail. It is the only one I have, and I need it to last for the rest of my life, you know."  
"Yeah, yeah. Just hold still!" Rinoa admonished as she held the fiery end of Red's tail to the end of a   
firework. When it began sparking, she hurriedly jerked Red's tail away and hopped back, waiting for lift-off.  
The stout little thing sat there shuddering for a second, then THWOOSH! It took of with such force that a   
small crater was left in its wake. Personally, Doom had half expected it to explode right there in front of him.  
"Woooooowww!" Rinoa gasped as the rocket twisted, turned, climbed, dove, and did loop-de-loops until it   
exploded high up in the air, creating the words, "I love you, Rinoa" with bright, multicolored sparkles.  
"Awww, how sweet of Squall to do that for me! I'll have to thank him when I go back inside." Rinoa said.   
"Okay, Red! Time for the next one!"  
"Custom-made military rockets with sparkles inside that spell out words. Rinoa, just how long did it take for   
Squall to get these for you?" Doom wondered.  
"About five minutes." THWOOSH!  
"Damn. He must have some serious horsepower to get through military regulations so fast."  
"Like I said before, Squall goes to great lengths to keep Rinoa happy." Red said. THWOOSH!  
  
Three hours and thirty some-odd rockets later, Rinoa was finally ready to go back to the Castle. The cliff   
side now closely resembled Swiss cheese due to the considerable number of craters in it. As she was   
packing up her things, Doom, who had not moved very much at all for the last three hours, hauled himself   
stiffly up from the ground and dusted of his pants.  
"When I get back to my room, I'm gonna take a nice, long shower before I hit the sack." He said, massaging   
his aching back.  
"No argument here." Red stated.  
"I thought cats groomed themselves with their tongue."  
"When you live here for any length of time, you quickly see that you will not want to put most things you   
find into your mouth. Showers feel better anyway."  
"I believe this is the second time we agree on something."  
"Hard to believe, isn't it?"  
"Hey, you two! Look!" Rinoa shouted.  
Doom and Red XIII turned wearily back to the cliff to see that Rinoa was staring back at the horizon. To be   
more specific, she was staring at a group of flickering lights on the horizon. Doom squinted to get a closer   
look. Something about how the lights were flickering seemed very familiar to him, but he couldn't quite put   
his finger on it.  
"What do you suppose that is, Rinoa?" Red asked.  
"More fireworks, of course! I wonder if they'll spell any words?" Rinoa answered.  
It suddenly hit Doom. "Fireworks, hell! That's a battle going on over there!"  
Red XIII was just a tad skeptical. "At the risk of sounding clichéd, how can you be so sure?"  
"I've been through more fights, battles, scraps, engagements, and treaty arrangement meetings gone awry   
than you could ever care to know, cat. Believe me when I say I know what I'm talking about." Doom replied.  
"I still say-"  
But Red's statement was never to be finished, due to the fact that a stray laser bolt impacted the cliffside,   
followed shortly thereafter by another that went a bit higher, blowing a second hole in the Castle on the   
eighth floor. Rinoa, badly shaken by this all-too-sudden turn of events, was crying pitifully. This   
immediately had the effect of drawing Squall to the second gaping hole.  
"Rinoa…?" Squall called. "Where are y- HEY!!! What have you pukes done to her? You just sit your   
criminal asses there and wait till I get there! I swear, scaring helpless little girls…" Squall then proceeded to   
attach a rope to a jutting support beam and rappel down the side of the Castle.  
"Should we run, or stay here and hope that we can convince him of our innocence before he does   
something rash?" Doom asked, looking skyward for the answer to his query.  
"I think we should profess our innocence, but that's just me talking." Red suggested.  
"I know, that's why I'm going to run now."  
"You may be interested to know that if you run, you are as much as submitting a plea of guilty to Squall."  
"… Hmm. Hadn't thought of that. Not a word outta you…"  
Squall was now halfway to the trio. Before he reached them, Dante appeared at the hole.  
"WOT THE FRIGGIN' HELL HAPPENED HERE?!?" His accusing glare fell on Doom and Red. "Oh, it's you   
two, is it? You bastards are seriously in for it now! Especially you, Doom! Boy when I get down there…"   
Then Dante noticed Squall, who was at this time three-quarters of the way across. "Hey! Hey Squall, buddy!   
You can help me beat 'em up! Yeah, you get over there and hold 'em, and I'll beat the living bejeezus outter   
'em when I get there! Just hang on and leave some for me!" Not bothering with the nearby rope, Dante leapt   
the whole eight floors to the ground, landing squarely on both feet with no visible harm to his person.   
Comes with being half demon, you get to fall from absurdly high places and not get hurt. Dante utilized this   
ability to the fullest of its potential on a daily basis.  
"That man has atrocious grammar and English skills." Red XIII said.  
"Tell me, O Wise One, is this really the time to be speculating on the grammatical faults of our supposed   
teammate?" Doom asked, with no little bit of sarcasm slathered on.  
"Hello, friends." Squall said pleasantly. "I will be your tormentor this fine evening. Tell me, how would you   
like to be killed today?"  
"Wait, let us at least try to prove our inn-" Doom began.  
"I'm sorry, I don't listen to fools."  
"Then you shouldn't have any trouble at all paying attention to me." Red said airily. "Rinoa here will tell   
you that we did nothing to hurt her. Right Rinoa?"  
"Well… *sniffle* that mean guy in the green suit did crush my pretty blue flower…" Rinoa answered tearily.  
"Now hold on just one damn minute here! I promised I'd find you a new one!" Doom snapped hotly.  
"Yeah… but you never got it…"  
"Girl, I was blasted by an Ultima spell at close range and lived to tell about it. Now, just because I lived   
doesn't exactly mean that immediately afterwards I'll be able to prance merrily about the island in search of a   
rare and elusive flower."  
"How would you know if it was rare or not?" Squall asked. He seemed a tad more composed now.  
"Murphy's Law and I have never been on good terms with each other. I have very, very bad luck. Thus, it   
follows that, in keeping with my perfect record of misfortune, if I break something without knowing   
beforehand what it was, it automatically becomes rare, valuable, and nearly impossible to find or replace. I'm   
probably the unluckiest bastard that you'll ever meet. If I were you, I wouldn't come to close to me on   
account of the palpable aura of lucklessness which hangs about me."  
"Aren't we just a merry little ray of sunshine?" Dante sneered. "Well, regardless, you still get a beating for   
putting not one, but TWO holes in my Castle."  
Seeing that Doom's body language practically screamed that he was going to injure someone, Red hastily   
broke in. "Dante, we can both explain for those holes. One was made by Lulu…"  
"When she lost what little control she had on her temper, and cast a little something we know and love as   
Ultima…" Doom said.  
"And we ended up out here and stayed for a while before what Doom claims is a battle started out there on   
the horizon…" Heads turned obligingly out to sea.  
"Which leads us to the other hole which was created when some butthead with horrible aim hit the Castle."  
A pause. "… And?" Dante ventured. "That's it? That's the best story you could come up with?"  
"We're not lying." Red said flatly.  
"Really."  
Doom lost his patience. "Look, moron, I don't have the time, patience, or inclination to stand around here   
arguing with you. If you don't believe Red and me, that's your tough shit. Now, I shall take my leave and go   
prepare my weapons."  
As Doom shoved past Dante, Squall stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Just a minute."  
Doom brushed Squall's hand away and turned. "What now?"  
"How sure are you that that is really a battle out there?"  
"Positive."  
"Positive enough to bet your life on it?"  
"Kid, I've wagered my life more times than you've had hot meals to eat. You learn to bet wisely when you   
have such a habit. But, to answer your question, yeah, I'd stake my life on it."  
"So…" Squall stared beyond Doom, deep in thought. After a second his eyes refocused and he nodded.   
"So. Let's get started."  
"Doing what?" Rinoa asked. Her tone was so light-hearted, it was thought by all present that she had   
forgotten about her flower. This thought was abolished when she pocketed a Post-It note that had the   
words "Scary Man," "promised," and "flower" written on it.  
"Getting ready for a fight." Squall answered briskly, staring out at the battle that was raging on the horizon.  
Reader: WHAT?!? YOU'RE GOING TO END THE CHAPTER HERE?  
Author: I can if I want to. The chapter name is "Encroaching Disaster," after all.  
Reader: BUT I WANNA SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT!!!  
Author: You know, I really don't seem to have caught your name.  
Reader: … Bob.  
Author: Well, "Bob," you really couldn't know how little I care.  
Bob: GRRRAAAGGHH!!!  
Author: Temperamental, aren't we?  
Bob: I'M GONNA *BLEEP*ING *BLEEP* *BLEEP* KILL YOU!!!  
Author: I think not. *whistles*  
Dante: You called, boss?  
Author: Yes, I did. This fine specimen over here has been calling your mother all sorts of nasty names.  
Dante: Oh, has he now?  
Bob: Oh dear…  
Dante grabs Bob and puts on some brass knuckles. Bob whimpers.  
Author: No, no, Dante. Not in the street. Here, use this oh-so-convenient Starbucks Coffee House instead.  
Dante: Righty-ho, then. Come along, victim.  
Dante drags Bob into the coffee shop. A soundly satisfying smack is heard, followed by Bob's scream of   
agony. Jolteon walks out of a Starbucks just across the street from the one where Bob is getting pounded.   
He strolls over and stands next to the Author, sipping his mug of coffee and watching the carnage from the   
relative safety of the street.  
Author: And you forgot to bring me one how?  
Jolteon: You want coffee, get it yourself. You have money.  
Author: Such good friends I have.  
Jolteon: Just whom exactly do you think you're fooling by referring to yourself as "Author" instead of   
"Lee"? Your name is posted as the author one page back.  
Lee takes Jolteon's arm and pulls him a step to the side. A bloody chair flies out of the front window of the   
Starbucks just then and collides with a lamppost directly behind where Jolteon had been standing.  
Lee: Now then. Is it so wrong to want to be known as a nameless, omnipotent being that knows, sees, and   
hears all?  
Jolteon: Hmm, you do have a point there…  
The two watch for a while longer as Bob has the holy hell beat out of him. Of course, since no such thing as   
a holy hell exists, it would be forever until a person had it beaten out of him or her. This concept delighted   
Dante to no end.  
Jolteon: This is beginning to bore me. And besides, we all know that you're just putting this in to lengthen   
the chapter without moving the plot along in any meaningful way.  
Lee: Hey, I'm the author. I'm allowed to have my meaningless story moments, aren't I?  
Jolteon: Again, you have a point. But can't we do anything else with our time?  
Lee: Well, there is a Starbucks right next to the one you came out of. We could go there and drink coffee   
while watching this utterly mismatched fight.  
Jolteon: Drinking coffee makes everything better. Shall we?  
Lee: Yeah, before Dante throws that table out what's left of the window.  
The buddies stroll leisurely into the Starbucks, which was next to a Starbucks, which was just across from   
the other Starbucks where Bob is little more than a moaning heap on the floor. That didn't bother Dante   
though, as he was not satisfied until Bob was reduced to a red smear on the wall. Once this objective was   
accomplished, Dante civilly exited the ruined Starbucks through its glass door, which, miraculously, had not   
been damaged during his little temper tantrum.  
Jolteon: Uh-oh. He's coming over here.  
Lee: Don't worry. He won't be in a mood like that for at least another hour.  
Jolteon: Gee, that's good to hear. Are you through with this little tale yet? I do have a life to get back to.  
Lee: All in good time, my friend. Dante has to come in here and get a cup of Joe first.  
Dante: What's this I hear about you paying for my coffee? Gee, Lee, you're the best pal.  
Lee: … Consider it a reward for a job well done.  
After thirty minutes of coffee and conversation, Dante has finished his mug.  
Jolteon: There. He's through. Can I go now?  
Lee: Why, Jolteon, you sound almost eager to get away from us.  
Dante: Hold it! I think I see a guy with a sign that says "Dante Sucks!" It seems I have more business to   
attend to. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen.  
Jolteon: That's it, I'm leaving.  
Lee: You know where to find me. Well boys and girls, it seems I've run out of pointless things to say at the   
moment. I guess I'll just have to let you go until next time. See you!  
Lee cuts the ropes that are binding several people together and strolls out of the coffee shop.  
Man: Finally! FREEDOM!!!  
Lee: Notice I said, "until next time."  
Group of people: DAMN!!! 


	10. The Cast for Guys

The Cast  
  
The Rainbow Soldiers (guys):  
  
Dante--If you were to look up the word "Macho" in the dictionary, this badass's mugshot would be the description. Though all the guys are narcissists on one level or another, at least there's room for other people in their thoughts. With Dante, there's almost none. His main interests extend almost solely to his dual pistols, Ebony and Ivory, and his willful sword, Alastor, which embodies the spirit of lightning. Being part human (minus the conscience) and part devil, he's the man to put up front when the shit hits the fan.  
  
  
Squall Leonhart--Squall is the cool, calculating type, and as such he is half the brains of the Rainbow Soldiers. The best way to describe him is the opposite of Dante. He is mostly courteous and the least vindictive of the bunch, unless irked, then things get ugly. Besides wielding a massive gunblade, Squall is the closest thing to a leader the guys have, and many will follow him on a word to the forbidden girls half of the castle. It is said, though not proven, that he even has the coveted gift of limited control over Zidane.  
  
  
Link--Link is the other half of the brains of the RS. Supplier extraordinaire of good sense and ass-kickings, he is able to render any opponent a mere shell of what (if anything) he once was by either his rock hard sense of what to do at any given time or his superb fighting skills. This guy was weaned on Iron Knuckles. A sword and shield are his staple fighting gear, but few can match his accuracy with a bow, even if they dared to try with a top of the line sniper rifle. If his cap goes missing, there'll be hell to pay, no matter who took it.  
  
  
Zidane--A word of warning: DO NOT piss this one off. You WILL regret it. Though slight of build, his thievery skills are top-notch. A master of stealth, camouflage, and subterfuge, and with the agility and reflexes of a cat, even Crash Bandicoot couldn't sniff out his trail. His weapons/tools of choice, double daggers, only serve to augment his skills as a wall-climber, lockpick, food thief, and revenge tool, among others. Though the only thing that truly controls Zidane is his stomach, he can usually be bought off by various forms of bribery, making him a household name in the "Damn-I-Want-That-Thing-But-I-Can't-Get-It-Myself" business.  
  
  
Cloud Strife--Cloud is either very lucky or cursed beyond all others, depending on your point of view. On one hand, he has two girls that both vie for his attention in various interesting ways. On the other hand, they are both extremely possessive over him, and when they're together in the same room, you can start placing your bets on who will win the fight. Personal gifts/problems aside, he is like the middleman. Average of temper and mannerisms, he is the one most girls, boyfriends aside, can stand to be around for any length of time. As a weapon, he carries one BIG-ASS sword, the Buster Sword. It could cleave a block of titanium in two in one swipe. Usually slow to anger, his wrath is something that is undesirable, to say the least.  
  
  
Tidus--Tidus is the water boy. Water is his life. Hell, he's the star of an underwater sport, Blitzball. He barely leaves the water, since in it he can find food, shelter, and companionship with the various sea creatures that populate the waters around Mallet Island, where all these fine folk live together in a castle that spans half the island. But getting back to dolphin-boy, he is capable of living on land, being human and all, but he much prefers the water. If you need him for an underwater job, just stick a message in a bottle and throw it out to the wide, wide ocean. He'll get it eventually. He can hold his breath almost indefinitely, and some have conjectured that he actually has gills somewhere on his body. Only he knows for sure. A master of underwater demolitions and other such nefarious deeds, he has great agility, in the water. On land his abilities are lessened somewhat. Did I mention he loves the water? Because he does.  
  
  
Auron--Whether Auron is actually a member of the RS is up for discussion, but since he's a guy, that pretty much inducts him, whether he wants it or not. Like Cloud, he has a fixation with obscenely large swords, and he even more silent than Squall. Even harder to surprise than Zidane, Auron seems to take everything in stride. The fact that he is a walking ghost doesn't seem to bother him or anyone else at the castle very much at all. His true age is unknown, but people reason that he's been alive so long he must have gotten almost infinite patience. Must have. He refers to himself as "ageless", and there are certain times when he is easier to anger than others. Like meditation time. Or private sword-shining time. Or meal time. In fact, one might say that he is fairly easy to rouse. Not that you'd want to. If he comes after you, they'll be burying you with your head in your hands.  
  
  
Cid Highwind--Cid is a first-class smoker/drinking companion. Loud, rude, crude, and not quite out of the potty-humor stage, he smokes like a chimney and drinks like a horse. A running bet is going on how long he'll last with that combination. Unbeknownst to Cid, though, Aeris replaced his lung-eating Marlboros with cigarettes that are actually healthy, but, sadly, nothing could be done about the odor they emit. Unbeknownst to ALL the boys however, is that all the girls got together and, with a mighty feat of sneakiness, replaced all of the beer in Dante's beer cellar with Vanilla Cokes, which are just as addictive but much less damaging to the brain. Cid and the rest only noticed an exciting new flavor of "beer". Cid, rather worryingly, is the castle mechanic. He keeps every gadget in the castle in tip-top shape. His life's dream is to build a system that is almost totally self-serving, but has yet to do so. His lance, though technically a weapon, is mainly used to fetch things from far away, prop things up, menace passerby, and that sort of thing. If you make Cid angry you can count on fluctuating water temperatures in the shower, the microwave exploding your meals, and, among certain other implements, a whoopie cushion in every seat that you decide to plant your butt in.  
  
  
Crash Bandicoot--Ah, Crash Bandicoot. This piece of work is one of the many things in life that should not be explained, and yet demands an explanation anyway. To begin with, his temperament and personality differ with each passing day. He is a master of the fine art of obliterating everything in sight, and once ate a block of steel. You can bet he had problems with THAT one. His sense of smell is beyond any other nose on the planet, and that combined with his other tracking abilities make him the 24-hour, on-call blood hound. If you lose something, Crash will find it and bring it back. However, if you don't feed him before he leaves, he may bring your lost article back in his stomach. He will eat anything, meat mostly, but some vegetables too. Except eggplants. Even he turns up his nose at eggplants. He will also take a bite out of anything that looks/smells appetizing enough, and the aforementioned steel block was shaped like an eggplant.  
  
  
Fox Mcloud--Fox McCloud is the leader of the Starfox mercenary team, but the rest of the team rarely have the balls to come anywhere near Dante's Castle for any reason at all. Incidentally, he is also one of the main income sources for the castle. What, you expect everyone else to just leave all those unused bucks he earns for handing Andross's ass back to him every time he tries to conquer the universe, do you? Come on, grow up man. Anyway, besides supplying part of the cash the runs the castle, he is also the best fighter pilot out there. Only the weight of numbers can bring this man down, as he excels at one-on-one combat. Falco can bluster, Peppy can claim the "experience" that comes with age, and Slippy can cash in on pure fool's luck, but none of them can match up to the one and only Fox Mcloud. Also, Fara (former title "The Bitch") was the bane of his existence until--this is all unconfirmed, all we have is Zidane's word--he got her alone in a dark room. She has toned down considerably since. Fox McCloud. A man among men, to be sure.  
  
  
Barret Wallace--Barret is most well known in the castle for once taking on both Katt and Fara at the same time. A brave thing to do. Foolish, but brave. The odds were evened somewhat because he has a gun for his right arm, but not by much. He lasted a good goddamn while, but defeat was inevitable. He managed to knock Fara out with a good right hook (which, if you'll remember, was the gun arm), but Katt got on his back, and that is someplace you just don't want Katt to be. He went down like the oak his body resembles, but at least he fell on Fara. We're not even sure what got the fight started, or what they did that provoked him into what he knew was a losing battle. This little story should tell even the thickest of you a little about Barret's character. He's braver than most, and has the will to stick it out to the very end. He's the rock every team needs to fall back on every now and then.  
  
  
Red XIII-- Red's real name is Nanaki, but everyone, him included, prefers Red XIII. If he so much as hears the word "Nanaki" spoken, he will personally come over, unsheathe his claws, and proceed to rip you a new one. 'Claws?' did I hear the reader ask? No? Well, I'll force it down your throat anyway. You see Red is a really big cat. Slightly larger than a lion. And blood red, with a fiery tail, and a scar over one eye. We suppose that makes him attractive to other members of his species. Of the opposite gender hopefully. If you don't like cats, then tough shit, Jack. He's here to stay. And he's damn welcome if I have anything to say about it. A brooding soul, he is almost always deep in thought. He communicates his finding on various world issues with quite possibly the most extensive English vocabulary I have ever encountered. You won't find any "ain'ts" or "y'alls" here. He is the perfect gentleman/cat, and the girls adore him.  
  
  
Sparda--Here he is folks, the man (devil actually) we all have to thank for Dante's personality. Let's all give a hearty round of applause for none other than Sparda, Dante's father! A wholehearted supporter of fighting and laughing at others misfortune, he was Dante's only refuge from the horrors of living in the same 20-mile radius as Maria, Dante's mother. How Sparda and Maria got together in the first place is beyond the ken of most ordinary mortals, including myself. Anyway, the fact that they did get together and had Dante is a testament to the powers of compromise. Sparda was also another servant of Mundus until he had "had it with serving that stupid ass inbred!" And so he took up his sword in the name of all that is good and righteous, namely all the drinks and pizza he could ever want.  
  
  
Kimahri Ronso--Kimahri is a Ronso with a broken horn. The Ronso are a proud race of cat-people who place great value on their horns. In the Ronso culture, the horn is a symbol of strength and power. And Kimahri's was broken off halfway by a troublemaker and his bully friend. To the Ronso, this is a sign of great shame and disgrace, and Kimahri ran from his homeland in his supposed shame. Though his horn-breaking had lasting effects, such as Kimahri's unwillingness to even speak to people he deems unworthy, he eventually paid back his aggressor in full, with a little interest on the side. Kimahri now speaks more freely, and he is on good terms with everyone at the castle. He is another spearman, and competes with Cid and Freya for the title of "Master Spearman/woman" on a regular basis. Known to go out and hunt for food such as innocent birds and game animals on the island, Kimahri is the best tracker in the castle, next to Crash, whom he looks down on. Guardian of Yuna for years now, he has protected her from monster attack many times, and he now protects her from such horrors as Zidane and Crash Bandicoot. Rest assured, wherever Yuna is, Kimahri is never far behind.  
  
  
Doom--If you don't know this guy, you desperately need to take a history test, with games as the subject. This distinguished individual starred in the two games that really kicked off the first-person shooter genre of games, DOOM and DOOM2. Sporting a generic green marine suit and a cool helmet, he is a match for Dante in killing ability. When his squad was sent to Phobos, one of Mars' moons, he and his compatriots discovered that it had been taken over by a rather hostile alien army. His unit became separated, and all but him were slaughtered or turned into walking zombies, albeit zombies that carried rifles, shotguns, and chainguns. He faced off against Imps, Demons, Cacodemons, Pain Elementals, Arch-Viles, the giant Cyberdemon, and finally the Spider Mastermind in environments ranging from computer stations on the moon base to Hell itself before he was able to return to Earth, where he found that the enemy had beaten him home. He had no other option than to be the ass-kicking machine that we all know him for, and drove the demons from Earth back the Hell from whence they came, chasing them throughout Hell's fires and traps to their source, and dispatched the last of them with extreme prejudice. Now, he is still on alert for another invasion, and constantly keeps himself in shape in order to be ready for the next wave, which he sees as inevitable. The truth of the matter is that they are scared to even show their faces in daylight, for fear that he will catch a glimpse and storm through to stamp their sorry hides out of existence. Trips to Hell are no big deal for him, and he routinely ventures out to waste some fools. Sadly, he seems to have forgotten his name in the course of his harrowing journey, and now refers to himself simply as: Doom. 


	11. The Cast for Girls

The Cast  
  
The Femme Fatales (girls):  
  
  
Trish--Unlike Dante, Trish is 100% demon. Though she is technically Dante's girlfriend, their relationship, while still on good terms, has cooled off considerably. They still say "hi" to each other in the hall, but Trish is now what is called by the Rainbow Soldiers and the Femme Fatales alike a Loose Cannon. She is on the prowl for a new guy. Her weapons of choice are her hands and feet, Kung Fu style. When kicking some fool's teeth in just isn't a viable option, she brings her AP (Armour Piercing) rifle to bear. It hurts to all nine Hells and back. Just ask Zidane. He found out when....well you'll find out. She is hot- tempered, and decisive in her actions, basically the girl's equivalent of Dante, just not so overbearing. She was last seen chasing Auron down a dark hallway.......  
  
  
Rinoa Heartilly--This is the shy one. She idolizes Squall and looks to him for comfort, support, and protection from the "white-haired monster under her bed with the red trenchcoat who wants to eat her all up!" This is obviously Dante. She is a meek soul, and is definitely not a fighter. She doesn't have to. Squall does it for her. She spooks easily, and all Dante has to do is let his "Monster Laugh" rip and she runs screaming for her room or Squall, whichever is closer. She is innocent, eager to please, and loves cute n' cuddly animals (Red XIII).  
  
  
Malon--Malon is probably the most mellow person in the whole castle. Girlfriend to Link, she has learned to take the verbal and mental abuse that comes with living within a mile of Dante in placid silence. But make no mistake, her pent up aggressions are always looking for some poor idiot to vent themselves on, and if you damage any of her property in any way, you can be assured that the next few hours of your miserable existence will be filled with extraordinary pain. Once these emotions have drained themselves for the moment, she goes right back to being the mellow, placid Malon we all know and love. It is a little known fact that she and Link got together when he appeared crying at her door because that stuck-up prig, Zelda, dropped him completely after he finished saving her kingdom, her people, and indeed her, from the horrors of a land ruled by Ganondorf. Zelda then proceeded to sponge up all the glory for herself. Arrogant bitch that she is.  
  
  
Garnet Til Alexandros 17th--Garnet is Zidane's girlfriend/caretaker. She has more control over him than Squall, but less than his stomach. She's seen many strange and horrifying things in the course of her duties. Early on, she enlisted the help of Freya Crescent to keep Zidane in line. They both try to the utmost of their abilities, but it has proved to be a long and arduous task. Now, she mostly lets him run free throughout the castle, a decision met with consternation on both sides of the castle's RS-FF dividing line. She is not insane, however, as is evidenced by her clear thinking when the going gets rough. She probably got this trait during the many months she's been taking care of Zidane before she moved to the castle. Her patience is easily strained, however, and her emotions never build up long before they come merrily out to be noticed. Usually in the form of a blunt object upside the head.  
  
  
Freya Crescent--Unlike Garnet and Malon, Freya has no patience whatsoever. She sees Cid as competition, if only because he has a lance just as long as her spear. And so she takes every opportunity to belittle him and his friends. Unlike Cid, she actually uses her spear for many things. Like scraping Zidane off the wall. Or hoisting an offending person up by the scruff of their necks and "removing" them from her presence. Or making a shish-kabob out of just about anything. She would be a Loose Cannon, but seems disinterested in guys in general. Rumor has it that she had a boyfriend once, but he forgot her after a trip around the world. Since then the thing she fears most is being forgotten. So she makes it hard for you to forget her. In many painful ways. But who knows? She might find someone else someday. She carries great pride in her race, heritage, and chosen profession. She is a member of the Bermecian mouse clan Dragon Knights, and has superb jumping ability due to her highly advanced leg muscles.  
  
  
Tifa Lockheart--This is one of the infamous girls who are after Cloud's heart. She and Aeris have a long-standing rivalry over Cloud, and he's caught right in the middle (poor guy). She scorns firearms, but will resort to them if pressed. She much prefers her own martial arts skills, which are in no little way assisted by her steel-reinforced gloves and boots. Tifa is mostly mild-mannered, but whenever Cloud is in the same room, she gets weird. If Aeris is there too, she gets aggressive. She has little interest in anything other than finding a way to outsmart Aeris and gain Cloud forever.  
  
  
Aeris--This is the second half of Cloud's own personal Hell. Aeris is sweet and condescending, unless, you guessed it, Cloud and/or Tifa are in the same room. Almost murdered by Sephiroth once, she never quite got over the feeling of cold steel in her chest. However, she is able to relieve the burning hate she feels for Sephiroth on, lo and behold (or rather don't), Sephiroth himself. He has been known to plummet over cliffs and tie lead weights to his feet before jumping in the ocean to escape from this sweet-looking she-devil from Hell. On a more positive note, she is the driving force behind all improvements in the guy's lifestyles, such as healthy cigarettes for Cid, replacing all the beer with Vanilla Cokes, and the supply of soap and other toiletries in the castle. Her excuse for all this effort over the boys of all things is that she simply refuses to live with pigs.  
  
  
Katt Monroe--A Loose Cannon of the worst sort, Katt is vehemently searching for a man that can handle her lifestyle. Anyone who thinks they are up to the challenge is welcome to try, but chances (and all bets) are not in your favor. She is a swift and agile fighter with either a gun or her fists, but she excels when she has the advantage of range and surprise, most preferably with a silenced sniper rifle in her graceful paws. Most well known for being the one to take Barret Wallace down in a fight, she is also known for winding up any girls she is pissed at by flirting with their boyfriends, often leading to a conflict of the kind no-one ever wants to be dragged into, but is always eager to watch. She never actually seriously goes for 'taken' men, and always respects the ties between boyfriend and girlfriend. But it never hurts to press the envelope a little every now and then.  
  
  
Fara Pheonix--Fox's former bitchy consort, she has now calmed down due to Fox finally putting his booted foot down. Though still quick to anger, her relationship with Fox has shifted from rocky in the extreme to tolerable, in that she no longer skims his wallet three times a day, and has stopped being so demanding. Besides her willingness to start a fight, Fara is also known for fighting Barret Wallace and, even though she was KO'd, giving him a few things to think about in the morning. Fara's fighting style is all her own. Her mastery of the blunt object, coupled with her innate need for a good pistol on her shapely hip, makes her a formidable opponent, and a good ally to have beside you in the heat of a pitched battle.  
  
  
Maria--Oh shit! It's Dante's mother! Run! Run for your miserable lives! A stickler for cleanliness and good manners, she is less than impressed at Dante's lifestyle, what with the empty coke cans and pizza boxes all over the place. If you want to know where Dante's got his unique opinions on the female gender, look no further. She had a heavy hand in his upbringing, and has no tolerance for slackers and mess-makers. When she said "Come!" by God he came. If he didn't, he'd better have a damn good reason. Usually, though, he came if he had to crawl on his belly and drag himself across the house. She has made it her mission to clean up Dante's life, though he's probably already too far-gone to help.  
  
  
Yuna--Daughter of High Summoner Braska, Yuna is also a Summoner. She is shy, though not as shy as Rinoa, and is Tidus' girlfriend. This has had both positive and negative influences on her life. For instance, she has learned to hold her breath almost as long as Tidus, and is able to swim like a duck. On the downside, she has also experienced such awful things as green hair from algae and bites from rather large fish that look at the usual human as a pre-meal morsel. Some of Tidus' brashness has also rubbed of on her, though it shows through rarely. A healer before all else, she is able to cure almost any kind of sickness or wound known to man.  
  
  
Lulu--The castle's resident black mage, Lulu is quiet and conservative in manner. As a focus point for the various spells of mass destruction she casts, she carries around little dolls, many of which get stepped on as they make their way about the castle. Despite her appearance, she is a woman of the world and as such has seen many strange things, one of which being Tidus. Another guardian to Yuna, Lulu is quite fearsome when angry, and is capable of making a monster the size of a semi truck disappear in a brilliant flash of beautiful-yet-terrifying light. Unlike Yuna, Lulu specializes in destruction, not preservation.  
  
  
Coco--Crash's sister. Unfortunately for her. She is often the only one who can have any kind of influence on Crash at all without bribing him with something. He loves her dearly, and will do almost anything for her. As you can probably imagine, she is a harried individual, with many, many worries of her own without having to think about the combined effects of both Crash and Zidane loose in the same Castle. Most of her time in eaten up by Crash's special needs, but when she does have some free time on her hands, she pursues such intellectual interests as chess, reading, computer work, and research. A precocious person, words as long as ten inches are a cinch for her. Most puzzles present her with no challenge whatsoever, and the only thing capable of confusing her is Crash. Even though he is her brother, she has yet to fully understand him and all his idiosyncrasies. 


	12. The Cast for Others

The Cast  
  
Villains and others (idiots):  
  
  
Ganondorf--Quite possibly the stupidest thing ever born. I mean, he was foolish enough to challenge Link, wasn't he? Fool. Anyway, he is characterized by a large frame, green skin, an idiocy to match George Bush, and a fool's accent. His designated area of the castle is an underground cave with an airtight door. You would not believe the smell. His "room" consists of a large pool of acrid slime, a compost heap for a bed, and a hole in the floor for a toilet. We don't know (and don't ask) what he eats, though it's sure to be something..."special." He's been killed for various transgressions, but he always pops up the next day. Makes a great punching bag/shooting target.  
  
  
Sephiroth--Now here is one bizarre piece of work. Besides having the self-destroying delusion of being able to beat Cloud, his mind is screwed up beyond belief and help. He once tried to force a huge meteor to collide with the Earth. Cloud and Co. took it rather personally. It probably had something to do with the fact that Sephiroth once called Cloud a Weak-Ass-Pansy-That-Couldn't-Kill-A-Butterfly. In the end, Cloud made Sephiroth eat his words, plus a whole lotta other shit. Sephiroth is recognizable by his large black trenchcoat, vacant stare, and a sword as long as Cloud's, but pitifully thin. Known (and hated) worldwide for almost killing Aeris while she was praying. Cowardly bastard.  
  
  
Seymour--This freak is Tidus' problem. He tried to become an all-powerful being to destroy the world and end all suffering. To end all suffering in itself is an admirable goal, but Seymour had one hell of a way to go about it. Tidus was forced to go Cloud 9 on his sorry ass to keep his deranged vision of a "better" world from ever coming to pass. Sporting some of the wildest hair this side of the universe, Seymour has a girlish tone of voice, a paunch, and weird veins on his forehead. Like all baddies, he has little to no actual brainpower other than the "brilliance" that comes with being born evil.  
  
  
Mundus--Ah, Mundus. Here is the perfect example of stupidity personified. Dante's former competitor for the "All-Time-Ruler-Of-Mallet-Island." Needless to say, Dante kicked his ass so hard that it was pitiful to watch. It almost made you feel sorry for him. Almost. Mundus is a towering statue of stone, and as such can get away with no kind of secrecy at all. As if to add insult to injury, he is now Dante's top slave, and if something goes wrong in the castle, Mundus is almost always the first to blame. Then comes Crash, then Zidane, but I digress. Mundus loves to pretend that he's still the ruler of Mallet Island, but only when Dante's not around to hear. If Dante does hear, strange and disturbing things happen to Mundus. On a side note, Mundus was also the King of Hell, but Dante ruthlessly took that position from him too.  
  
  
Phantom--Phantom bears no likeness to his namesake. He is a huge lava spider that is loud, and generally easy to pick out in a crowd. A former servant to Mundus, he now serves Dante and the rest at the castle grudgingly, but on pain of death if he steps out of line. When he and Dante first met, Phantom made the mistake of bruising Dante's ego. This matter finally ended with Phantom impaled on the business end of a large stone pike, and lava-boy barely escaped with his life. His distinguishing features include a scorpion's tail, eight eyes, a hard shell, and the general look of a spider, albeit one that bleeds lava. His spawn swarm all over the castle, but Link and Squall started a campaign that has resulted in the baby Phantoms retreat into the darkest recesses of the castle.  
  
  
Griffon--Another former servant to Mundus, Griffon is, as you might guess, a giant bird. He can control the elements of wind and lightning, and was one of Mundus' oldest and most loyal servants. That is, until Dante came to town and "convinced" him of the error of his ways. This "persuasion" took quite a while, though, and finally came to a head when Griffon was almost crushed to death under a stone pillar, courtesy of, who else, Dante. Griffon is almost impossible to miss, whether he's flying high in his rounds around the castle (turd alert!) or is scratching in the castle yard for something, anything, to eat.  
  
  
Marionettes--These are the mindless pee-ons that keep the castle running through low, degrading, menial work. Laundry, cleaning, and bill paying. God only knows where they get the money. Probably by putting on puppet shows or something like that. They are literally puppets. Made of wood and possessed by demonic spirits, they used to roam Mallet Island freely until Trish organized press gangs to force them to work. In numbers, they can be dangerous, but such peasant uprisings are rare. Singly, they are laughably weak. If one so much as looks at one of the "masters" funny, it can lead to disastrous results for them all.  
  
  
Blades--Blades are the parasites and squatters that staunchly refuse to work for Dante or anyone else. Reptilian in look and nature, their furtive habits, only recently acquired since the takeover of the castle, have earned them the not-so-affectionate nickname of "rats." Blades avoid conflict whenever possible, but are usually behind monster uprisings, and are ferocious fighters alone or in a group, particularly when protecting a nest, which is about the only time they'll fight in the open. Interestingly, their cousins, the Frosts, are willing to earn their keep by lowering electricity bills by operating in such areas as freezers, refrigerators, air conditioners, and other low-temperature jobs.  
  
  
Seifer Almasy--Squall's rival in the fine art of gunblade usage, Seifer is also Rinoa's former boyfriend. They parted ways, however, when he began to uphold the Sorceress Edea, who was, was mind you, an evil being who lusted for, what else, power. Back to Seifer, he was the Sorceress' Knight, and was loyal only to her. A bit of a snob, Seifer finally saw the light after his spectacular defeat by Squall. He now hangs around the castle, mostly staying out of everyone's business. Except when Squall meets him in the hall or enters the same room. Though Seifer is no longer an active villain, his rivalry with Squall has not changed. This makes him an annoyance to Squall and anyone else around when Seifer spots him. Whether or not Squall's obvious connections with Rinoa have anything to do with it has yet to be proven, as he never talks unnecessarily about himself, and almost never bothers Rinoa at all.  
  
  
Kuja--Holeey shyit what do we have here? This guy is Zidane's own personal cross-dressing pain-in-the-ass. His plans for the world were standard, you know, take it over, make a few changes here and there, until he learned that he was just a prototype Zidane. Then he flipped even worse than he already was. You see, Kuja was just meant to be a test, a lab rat if you will, for an upcoming project, Zidane. Zidane was the one really meant to cause war between the three great nations of the world. Zidane was the one meant to take the world over. And ultimately destroy it, but that's beside the point. When Kuja found out, he made it his mission to destroy not just the world, but Crystal of Life itself. Thus Zidane, ignorant about his true purpose until Kuja flipped, decided not to destroy the world, but to save it. Kuja is hard to recognize as a man at first, mainly because he dresses like a female employee at a strip club. I'll leave it to your fertile imaginations to conjecture what this says about his outlook on life in general. The 'man' even talks like a woman worse than Seymour does.  
  
  
Diablo, Lord of Terror--Fancy name huh? This is your standard, generic demon lord. He looks badass, but any one of the guys could take him single-handed. He is large, red, scaly, and has a large gem sticking out of his forehead. He was introduced to the castle when he decided it would make a good place from which to build his Empire of Hell. His delusions of grandeur were shattered, however, when he met up with Fox in a long, dark hall. It seems Fox was just coming in from batting practice, and he still wasn't quite ready to put the bat away. The Lord of Terror was living up to his namesake to an admirable degree by the time he got out of the out of the castle. He was lucky, he got away with only a shattered kneecap (Fox), a cracked thigh bone (Link), two black eyes (Trish), a dislocated arm (Dante), a slit liver (Zidane), a missing tail (Fara), one broken, one missing horn (Crash), a fractured skull (Squall), a mutilated hand (Cloud), a rather unexpected sepository (Cid), and numerous cuts and abrasions all over his scaly hide. Oh the pain. *snicker.* Oh before I forget, a super-duper all-powerful foot-crushing Crotch Kick was delivered by none other than Freya Crescent, and I imagine he limped all the long way home.   
  
  
Imps--These are the next step up from Marionettes. They have brown, leathery skin and white spikes jutting from their hides in many places. Aside from the fact that they are easily brought down with just about any weapon, large hordes are dangerous, if only because there are more to claw at you. Besides clawing frantically at you, they can hawk a loogie into their hands. This might seem only to be a disgusting display of alien inferiority to humans, but, in fact, their mucus chemically reacts to oxygen and bursts into flame, effectively providing the Imps with a hazardous projectile. All in all, they are a more serious threat than Marionettes, but should be no problem for anyone who is able to eke out a living in Dante's Castle.  
  
  
Demons--Imagine an unusually large shaved gorilla with stubby arms and a mouth full of razor sharp teeth, massive enough to swallow Dante's ego whole. That about sums up your standard Demon. Completely devoid of ranged attacks, they are only a threat when they manage to get close enough to bite you. If they do get close enough, however, you'd better get a move on fast or you'll suddenly be suffering a severe case of Missing Arm. They have trouble with stairs though, and can easily be picked off if they encounter any, as they become confused over the smallest step.  
  
  
Cacodemons--These floating monstrosities have the general shape and color of a pumpkin. They could probably pass as rather large pumpkins, if it weren't for the fact that the have painfully obvious teeth and one glaring, angry green eye. When they sight a likely meal prospect, they shoot balls of lightning out of their mouths to stun and disorient their prey before moving in for the kill. Rarely seen in groups, they are usually encountered alone, and as such are relatively easy to combat if you keep your wits about you. The only good thing about them is their size. They are so big that it is practically impossible to miss.  
  
  
Cyberdemons--These bad boys are probably the single most dangerous enemies you can meet. They are so dangerous for the simple fact that they have rocket launchers for their left arms. Barret claims that they stole his idea. Regardless, you definitely don't want to face one of these guys alone. If there is more than one, avoid combat if at all possible. The only advantages you have over these titans are their size and the slow speed of their rockets. Their size makes it impossible for them to enter small doorways and passages that you, as a small, insignificant ant, can. The speed of their rockets is fast, but slow enough to allow you time to dodge if you can see it coming. So make an effort to see it coming. 


End file.
